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October, Nineteen-Eighteen 


Frontispiece: Our Commandant 

Our Service Flag 1 

The Tapestry of Years (Jubilee Ode) 3 

Great Catholic Generals (Essay) 4 

(T. HAILS, A.B. '19) 

A Cloistered Heroine (Verse) 8 

(BY A. B.) 

The Death Grip of Islam (Essay) 9 

(H. MAHORNER, A.B. '21) 

From the Fire Step (Verse) 15 


Between Two Flags (Essay) 16 

Mufti and Khaki ( Verse) 20 

Songs of the Khakied Muse (Essay) 21 

(D. J. O'ROURKE, A.B. '23) 

His Captain's Call (Essay) 28 

Our Veteran (Essay) '. 37 


Which ? ( Essay) 39 

(JOS. J. KOPECKY, '19) 

In Memoriam (Verse) 42 


Over the Top Over There 43 

Our Commandant 44 

Eyes, Right 45 

Communications, Alumni Notes, S. A. T. C. Notes, High School Notes, 
Chronicle, Honor Roll, S. A. T. C. Students, Obituary. 



Our Service 'Flag 

IGHTY-EIGHT YEARS AGO, crowning the western hill-top yon- 
der, that we see daily lighted by the glories of the setting sun, 
there was founded an institution for the making of men. Grow- 
ing with the growth of our city and our Southland, developing 
to meet the needs of their development, it has become a vital 
force in promoting and maintaining the welfare and prosperity 
of our land and of our people. Like the never-failing crystal spring which 
gushes from the foot of its honored hill, and pours its pure and freshening 
waters into Spring Hill lake, so, throughout all its years of ceaseless activ- 
ity, Spring Hill College has poured into the life of our nation a tide of noble 
spirit, trained intellect, and lofty manhood. Many are the honored names 
that appear upon the lists of its alumni. A United States Senator, two 
Supreme Court Justices, three Lieutenant Governors of States, more than 
two hundred distinguished lawyers, more than a hundred famous physi- 
cians — these, and many more, give ample testimony to the efficiency of 
its training. "By their fruits ye shall know them." 

AND IF YOU WOULD DISCOVER the secret of so great influence, of 
so great success in moulding lives of usefulness, let us turn again to 
the pages of the Book of Books, wherein we find all secrets that can be 
known to men, and read, "He that walketh with wise men, shall be wise." 
Twenty-one Presidents, able and distinguished men, have administered its 
affairs and directed its destinies, and a faculty of competent and conse- 
crated instructors have aided them in the work. To understand and appre- 
ciate all that the services of these men have* meant, all that their lives have 
stood for, we need go no further than the lives of those whom we have to- 
night among us, and into whose able and devoted hands is today entrusted 
the control and guidance of Spring Hill College. We all know them. We 
all honor them. We all love them. In these times of stress and strain, 
they move constantly among us — encouraging, shaming, uplifting, enno- 
bling. I have worked with them and beside them, and I know. And I re- 
joice exceedingly to lay this wreath of praise upon the heads of the mem- 
bers of this Faculty who wish it so little, and who deserve it so much. 

AND THESE YOUNG MEN, this student body that we have with us 
tonight, what better proof could we desire than that they, too, have 
imbibed the spirit of their institution, and are ready and eager to go forth 


to lives of useful citizenship, than this very occasion that brings us together 
tonight? For months they have labored in the preparation of this charm- 
ing play, only that all its proceeds may be applied to the alleviation of the 
sufferings of humanity through the healing and helping instrumentality of 
our glorious Red Cross. As citizens of Mobile and of these United States, 
we appreciate what they have done. May the spirit that inspires them to- 
night go forth with them into life, and guide them in careers of happy and 
abundant usefulness. 

BUT IF WE COMMEND THESE, what shall we say of the young men 
in whose honor we dedicate this service flag tonight — these young 
men who have abandoned all, offered all stand ready to give all, to benefit 
their fellowmen? As I look upon this Service Flag, I seem to read, in its 
field of white, the sign of the noble and unsullied purity which actuates 
their sacrifice; I seem to see, in its border of red, the symbol of the red 
blood of virile manhood that courses in their veins, throbbing with earnest 
eagerness to spend and be spent in the cause they have espoused ; and from 
each star that blazons its surface and floats upon its fields, I seem to learn 
the lofty lesson of splendid and unselfish service. May God bless them! 
May God preserve them ! May God bring them home to us to enrich and 
glorify the future world-usefulness of our nation! 

*An address delivered in the City of Mobile by Dr. Julius T. Wright, Principal of 
the University Military School of Mobile, upon the occasion of the dedication of the 
Service Flag of Spring Hill College. The flag was presented and dedicated between 
the acts of a play given by the Dramatic Club of the College for the benefit of the 
Red Cross. i 

2ty* (UapeBtrg af fears 



HE DAY IS DONE, and that sad, silent hour 

Is come. Nor light nor darkness rules the world. 
The breath of night is perfumed like a flower, 
As soft the greying folds of eve are furled. 
Within the hall of Memory I stand 

And draw the cord that holds the hazy veil 
Between our times and all the deeds of yore, 

And strive, ere sunset's dying flame shall fail 
To see old Time adreaming there before 

His woof. His loom hums on by night, by day, 
The shuttle weaves with restless energy 

A figured tapestry, with colors gay — 
A tale of life upon a heart's bright dye. 

And the weaves glances up and sees 
The phantom figures of the years flow by — 

Thorn-crowned years of sorrow, years of ease 
Clutching the smiles and tears in jealous hand. 

And as the vision of the years unfurled, 
It was prisoned in that pictured cloth domain : 

The face of Jesus calling from the world ; 
And Pleasure's face enticing to remain; 

A lily's bloom — a rose — the rose's thorn ; 
Some hidden wish, some thought of frustrate fame ; 

Some bright young hope of Youth's high-hearted morn ; 
A word too harsh — the undeserved blame ; 

The bitter loss — the praise of friend's true heart; 
Upon the living loom with faithful art — 

The tapestry of a soul — Time's sure hand wove. 

But now the vision's gone — the dreams depart 

Of ended toil the treasured yield is love. 

The deeds proved true by work in sun-parched field 

Are gemmed in gilt in the Judgment Book, seven sealed. 

The weave's bright end — a crown of laurel leaves, 

In threads of gold, and sunlit, golden sheaves. — E. O'C. 

Great Catholic Generals 


T. HAILS, A.B. '19 

INCE THE APPOINTMENT OF FOCH as Generalissimo of all 
the Allied Armies, there would seem to be a tendency on the 
part of some of the English periodicals to oblivionize the 
achievements of Catholic Generals both of the present and the 
past. This campaign is one of covert, rather than open, depre- 
ciation. It is evinced either by a silence that totally ignores the merits of 
military leaders of another creed, or by a modicum of laudation that exerts 
the same baleful influence ascribed by the poet to faint praise. The one is 
just as culpable as the other, and both fall so far short of justice — by refus- 
ing to give honor where honor is due — as to approach the guilt incurred 
by open hostile criticism. That such a discussion can only emanate from 
minds insufficiently informed or from active ill-will is evident to all; that 
it owes its origin to the former of these sources is our chosen belief. We 
shall be the last to accuse anyone of allowing their judgment to be biased 
by bigotry in times like these, for none, we are sure, will allow the bond of 
union to be weakened by any religious difference in such a crisis of our 
history. While not our intention to start a controversy between the rela- 
tive merits of Catholic and Protestant Generals, we would present a few 
facts concerning the careers of those men who, while following the teach- 
ings of the Catholic Church, have signalized themselves to such an extent in 
the leadership of armies that they deserved to have their names enrolled 
among the great generals of history. This will have the two-fold effect of 
correcting those who have already volunteered statements based more on 
prejudice than on historical fact, and of forearming with proper data any 
who might be drawn into such a discussion. 

AMONG THE NATIONS of the Old World there is one whose name is 
synonymous with martial glory. We allude to France, which, both 
for the number and excellence of her generals, stands, and has ever stood, 
second to no living power. As her creed has ever been, and is still, to a 
great extent, pre-eminently Catholic, it is not surprising that we should 
find on the lists of her military heroes men who were an honor to the 
Church, while they achieved great things for the glory of the State. 
Under such a category, we naturally would not include those who at best 
were mere nominal Catholics. From such we had better prescind. Nor do 
we need to revert to the days of Charlemagne, or even Henry IV, to prove 


that a very large percentage of France's great generals were Catholics. 
The present French staff, the pride of the Entente — includes among its 
members no less than fourteen Catholic generals — all of them distinguished 
men in whose hands the destiny of France truly lies. There is Foch, the 
Commander of all the Allied Armies, who wields more power than either 
Hindenburg or Ludendorff. Something has been said of his Catholicity 
in our papers of late ; the present campaign will prove his capacity. If to 
have found the gap between the Prussian guard and Saxon army at the 
Marne and so saved the day for the Allies, and, with it, France; to have 
then headed the Germans off Calais in the race for the sea, and be acknowl- 
edged a strategist of the highest order, both by Joffre and the German 
Military Gazette (which is sparse in its praises when there is question of 
Allied leaders), if all these be any sign of merit, then the choice of the 
Versailles conference was a prudent one. There is Petain, the savior of 
Verdun; Castleneau, the hero of Nancy and its crown of forts; Pau, the 
one-armed, whose name has become a by-word with the Boches. The 
partiotism of these men is only equalled by their piety. The first strate- 
gist in Europe is, we are told, also the humblest, and asks prayers of school 
children before beginning his terrific counter attack which drove the enemy 
from the Marne to the Aisne. The "booted Capuchin," as Castleneau is 
styled by Clemenceau, has the welfare of his country so much at heart 
that, on hearing of his beloved son's death, represses his emotion, and, turn- 
ing to his staff, says, "Messieurs, we shall resume our dispatches." These 
are names for France to be proud of. 

not different. Ask the smallest child in the French schools 
"Who were France's greatest generals ?" and, however atheistical the insti- 
tution, granted he has but the slightest knowledge of history, his answer 
cannot but include the names of Conde, Turenne and Marshal Saxe. The 
first of these, Louis de Bourbon, Prince of Conde (a convert and a general 
of international fame like Turenne) , has figured so often as the Champion 
of France in her wars with her enemies that he is as well known among for- 
eigners as among Frenchmen. "As I begin to speak of Louis of Bourbon," 
cries his panegyrist, "I find myself overwhelmed by the extent of the task 
and its uselessness. For who has not heard of the great Conde?" His 
early campaigns had somewhat of the romance of Napoleon's about them, 
and before he was 25 his name was already a household word in Europe. 
As a boy, he whipped the Spaniards at Rocroi, and repeated the perform- 
ance at Lens a few years later, in 1648, having had time meanwhile to in- 
flict a crushing defeat on the Imperialists at Nordlingen. He interpreted 



the commentaries of Caesar on the battlefield, and proved himself a worthy- 
disciple of so great a master by conquering Frenche-Comte in 1668, and in 
drawing a battle with the Prince of Orange at Seneffe, though fighting 
under odds. 

Turenne's four brilliant campaigns in Germany, which forced the 
Peace of Westphalia are, from a martial standpoint, among the most glo- 
rious ever achieved by the sons of France. His victory of Gien (1652), 
where he saved the fate of the French Government; his victory of the 
Dunes (1658), which decided the war with Spain; his conquest of French 
Flanders are read of with pride by every French student of history. 

Marshal Saxe's exploits, though not as famous or far-reaching in their 
effects, have a glint of genius and a tilt of adventure about them which 
render them deservedly popular. His capture of Prague, Eger and Maes- 
tricht — his victories at Fontenoy, Raucoux and Laffield form apt themes 
for both song and story. To such names does the Frenchman turn for a 
representation of his country's military genius. For an impersonation of 
her bravery he looks to Bayard, "The knight without fear and without 
reproach," distinguished in the old Italian campaigns, whose fearlessness 
at the battles of Guinegate and Marigano has become an international 
proverb. Nor is the Church less represented among the naval comman- 
ders. Duquesne, who defeated the Spanish and Dutch fleets off the Sicil- 
ian coast in the wars of the Spanish succession, was perhaps the greatest 
admiral of his day, and, withal, a Catholic. Had France nothing greater 
to show in naval warfare than Tourville's victories at Palermo (1677), at 
the Isle of Wight (1690), at Cape St. Vincent three years later, over the 
combined Anglo and Dutch fleets, her record would be an enviable one. 

r^ PEAKING OF ADMIRALS, leads us to another important naval power 
O — Italy. Among the numerous names of which she prides herself in 
her eventful history, that of Andrea Doria, the Liberator of Genoa, is not 
the least. His campaigns against the Turks, and his capture of Tunis are 
amongst the glories of Christendom. Spain is well represented by Pizarro, 
the conqueror of Peru, and by Cortez, the conqueror of Mexico. Poland has 
no nobler representative than Sobieski, the deliverer of Vienna, and Ko- 
ziusko, dear to the American, as well as to the Catholic heart of his coun- 

stein. Tilly was victorious in no less than thirty-six battles. .Com- 
mander of the Catholic league at the beginning of the Thirty Years War, 


his victories of the White Mountain; his subjugation of the Palatinate; his 
defeat of Christian of Bavaria, and Christian of Denmark not only helped 
him to the title of imperial generalissimo, but served to rank him among 
the great generals of all time. 

Wallenstein's career had still more of the spectacular. Jumping from 
a farmer to a squire, and thence to a duke, he raised, at his own expense, 
an army that accounts to its credit such victories as that of Dessau over 
Mansfeld, and Nuremburg over the hitherto invincible Gustavus Adolphus, 
followed by the conquests of Silesia and Bohemia. 

To these we must add the name of Prince Eugene de Savoy, so justly 
popular in England for the aid rendered her during the wars of the Spanish 
succession. Refused a commission in the French army under Louis XIV, 
he entered the Austrian service. His defeat of the Turks at Zanta (1697) 
forced on them the Peace of Carlowitz; his victories over them at Peter- 
warden and Belgrade compelled them to accept the terms of Passarowitz 
in 1718. At the outbreak of the Wars of the Succession, he scored several 
victories, and had commanded with Marlborough on such fields as those of 
Blenheim, Oudenarde and Malaplaquet. 

All of Ireland's great generals, with few exceptions, were naturally 
Catholic. Hugh O'Neill, the victor at the Yellow Ford ; Owen Roe, the hero 
of Benburb, and the second soldier of his day; Sarsfield, with his Irish 
Brigade, which did such good service on the continent under the Fleur de 
Lys, are all of European fame. Several of them became distinguished in 
other "far foreign fields." Marshal de Lacy in Russia, who, if we are to 
believe Farrar, "Taught the Russians how to beat the Swedes at Pultowa," 
and O'Mahony in Spain, are well known examples. 

IN OUR OWN REVOLUTIONARY WAR there are fewer names better 
known than those of Montgomery, who fell in the attack on Quebec; 
Antony Wane, the stormer of Stony Point, and Stark, the victor of Ben- 
nington, all of at least Catholic blood. Barry's exploits are too well known 
to bear repetition. We were not unrepresented then. Nor are we unrep- 
resented today with such names as Benson and others to the fore. 

England even will own up to the excellence of her Catholic leaders. 
For were not the victors of Crecy, Poitiers and Agincourt of the ancient 
faith; and were victories gained by her Richard of the Lion Heart at 
Cyprus, Acre and Jaffa won in its defence? 

These, then are a few disjointed, incomplete data to show what 
Catholic generals are today, and what they have been in the past. If facts 
can speak for themselves, and we are prone to think they can, then it would 
follow that Catholics have no reason to blush when there is question of 
military leadership, for in this, as in many other things, we at least can 
hold our own. 

A (Hlm&ttwb ijmritt? 


THOU whose swifter feet did spurn the way, 

Slow trod by common herd whom Nature's sway 

Constrains with subtle snares when most they prate 

Of liberty; strong, valiant soul, too great 

For vulgar mould, whose pinion sweep would fain 

Have struck for freer realms across the main 

White-seamed with ghastly harvesting of wings 

That dared the spell of its dread whisperings — 

For thee the game of life no prize forecast 

Worth bargaining; thy woman love too vast 

For lower usage, ne'er brooked the stress 

Of bourn that harb'ring it, would ought repress 

Its queenly form. Within thy heart the spring 

Of motherhood too full to stint the gold 

Of its high gift, its treasures manifold 

On tiny hearts of its own modeling, 

Spread out and sought for ever-widening shores ; 

Too lofty-souled to slave at mental chores 

For love of man, thou servest Mary's Lord 

And walkest paths by weaker flesh abhorred; 

To him and us thou gavest all; thy tenderness 

Unknown to men, save those that nightly bless 

Thy face in sultry fever ward; thy love, 

Thy kindliness which, like a sparkling bay, 

White-kist by sun and Neptune's foamy drove 

Dies open to the arid world . . . Oh, may 

Its cheering flame like Northern Cross at night 

Guiding the vagrant Norse, forever light 

Our dark'ning path, and teach us love who know 

The name of Love, but never felt its glow. 

— E. B. 

The Death Grip of Islam 

H. MAHORNER, A.B. '21 

enjoying a short furlough from the Western front, where I had 
seen some service in the Royal Army Medical Corps. The cycle 
of experiences I had gone through in France was so vast; the 
number of cases presented for my inspection were so numerous 
and varied that I had finally come to the conclusion that the Fates had 
exhausted their powers as far as I was concerned. "They can show me 
nothing new," I kept saying to myself. "I have seen all their stock ; been 
in every possible predicament they could devise ; treated every conceivable 
complication from trench feet to a whizz-bang wound. Everything that 
happens to me now in the war will be but a repetition of what I have al- 
ready seen." I was in this frame of mind when a telegram from the war 
office was handed me, which proved to be an introduction to an incident, 
the very mysteriousness of which has made me more than doubt the truth 
of my statement. I was summoned to report at Portsmouth by the fifteenth 
instant. I was not very surprised at this, as there had been rumors afloat 
for some time, fed by the jingo press, about an expedition to the East. 
Evidently there was something astir, but what it was I was left to guess. 
There was no time for delay, however, and by the evening of the thirteenth 
I could see from the windows of my incoming train the spires of Ports- 
mouth, intermingled with the masts of the super-dreadnoughts riding at 
anchor in the Solent. Next evening found me on board H. M. Hospital 
Ship Victoria, to which I learned I had been attached as Assistant Director 
of Medical Service. Our fleet, which consisted mostly of old battleships, 
supported by the super-dreadnoughts Queen Elizabeth, Inflexible and the 
Agammemnon, set sail on the evening of the fifteenth for what afterward 
proved to be no other objective than the Dardanelles. Reinforced en route 
by H. M. S. S. Majestic and Triumph, together with a large fleet of French 
men-of-war, including the memorable Bouvet, our combined squadrons 
formed an assemblage of not less than thirty-two vessels. The voyage, as 
might have been expected, was a rapid one, and by the morning of the 
twenty-first we were hammering at the forts and the entrance of the Dar- 
danelles. What happened is more or less common history now. All of the 
outer forts were destroyed, and on March 18 an attempt was made to 
silence those at the narrows. This, however, was found impracticable 
without the assistance of a land force, which was accordingly determined 


upon. A rain of shells from the warships made it possible to land the first 
troops on the Western end of the Gallipoli peninsula, and on the shore 
South of the Straits. Within a few days an army of 80,000 men was suc- 
cessfully debarked, and a system of supply arranged. 

THEN FOLLOWED most desperate and continuous fighting. The Turks 
again and again endeavored to drive the invaders into the sea, while 
the Allies launched a series of general assaults that won them a way 
through the maze of defences and brought them to the top of the hills 
overlooking the forts of the narrows. 

IT WAS ON THE EVE of some heavy fighting, when the wounded were 
being conveyed to our ship from the shore, that my attention was called 
to one of the stretchers. On it lay the figure of a man, apparently uncon- 
scious. Yet, on examining the body, I could find no trace of wound. The 
face was distorted, and gave evidence of intense strain. There was nothing 
surprising about that, as such sights are but too common in modern war- 
fare, and I had seen a hundred similar expressions in France. I was won- 
dering what could have befallen this captain — for such was his rank, as I 
saw from the identification disk — and was about to give him a more thor- 
ough examination, as I suspected poisoning or gassing as the only possible 
explanation of his discharge from service on shore, when I felt a hand 
upon my shoulder. It was one of the first-aid surgeons. "Strange case, 
this," said he. "I knew you would have some trouble about it, so I fancied 
I had better row across and explain the circumstances. You've seen the 
finger marks on the arm ?" "No !" I answered, in some surprise, for they 
had escaped my notice. He raised the captain's left arm, slowly, and 
showed me five distinct marks on the wrist. "These are the cause of his 
trouble," he said. "Bancock's regiment was one of the first to effect a land- 
ing. As might have been expected, they were attacked immediately by 
the Turks, but managed to hold their own till dusk. Securing their position 
overnight, they determined to advance at dawn. They were to make a big 
drive, and so divert the attention of the Mussulman till they could be rein- 
forced by fresh troops from the fleet. They waited till the first streak of 
daylight had shot through the straits. Then the order 'Over the top' was 
given, and the men leaped from the hastily-constructed trench, headed by 
Bancock, sword in hand. He seems, from what the soldiers say, to have 
fought with exceptional bravery. I saw him myself lead a charge at Neuve 
Chapelle, and knew he was a brave officer, but this would seem to have 
eclipsed any of his former exploits. Though the battle was an unusually 
long and bloody one — one of the longest bayonet struggles of the whole 


war — he managed to keep continually ahead of the battalion, cheering and 
yelling to his men to follow. They had gained considerable ground, and all 
seemed well, when Bancock, becoming separated, owing to the confusion, 
from his main detachment, engaged in a bloody hand-to-hand encounter 
with an isolated Turk. The Mahomedan had advanced stealthily on him 
from the side, expecting to take him unaware. But the officer was just 
a trifle too quick, and, half parrying the crushing musket blow, ran the 
heathen through and through with his sword. The Turk fell back with a 
hideous yell, his eyes glowing with a deadly hate, his thick lips writhing 
back from his teeth, which grinned and chattered with devilish fury. In 
falling, he caught the captain's wrist in a death-grip, which stiffened in- 
stantly. Bancock endeavored to free himself from the dead man's grasp, 
but could not. He made repeated efforts to do so, but to no avail. He then 
called for help, but whether his men were too far advanced, or owing to 
the noise of the cannon from the forts, his appeals were unheard. At 
length, wearied and faint with loss of blood, for he had sustained some 
wounds during the day, and had but half parried the musket blow, he fell 
to the earth. Thus both of them went down while the battle raged on — the 
one dead, the other unconscious. Thus they lay all night. Next morning 
some stretcher-bearers who were sent to collect any of the wounded that 
might have been overlooked in the darkness of the preceding night, were 
hailed by the captain. He had regained consciousness, but was still held 
in the same clammy vice. I was immediately summoned. I shall never 
forget the frozen expression of hate limned in every muscle of the face of 
the dead Turk. . To release the captain from his cursed grasp, I was obliged 
to cut the Saracen's fingers, one by one, from the captain's wrist. As each 
finger was removed, those deep impressions you now see, remained. They 
have already become much fainter, and will eventually wear away, but the 
captain has not benefited by his experience. He has been in an almost 
continuous swoon ever since, and as he appears totally unfit for active ser- 
vice, I have sent him back to Blighty for a rest." By this time I was 
deeply interested in the case, and had the captain assigned to one of my hos- 
pital wards. 

THE VOYAGE SEEMED TO HELP HIM wonderfully, and before we 
had passed the Aegean he was already on the high road to recovery. 
The third day after our departure, as I stepped to his bedside, he greeted 
me with a smile. "Good morning, Doctor," he cried. "Good morning," I 
returned, "how fare you this morning?" "My nerves are much improved," 
he answered. "I have now no fears of chronic neurasthenia, which I thought 


would surely be the result of my adventure." This was his first and only 
reference to the accident that had befallen him. I tried to draw him out 
on the subject several times, as I was anxious to learn the story from his 
own mouth, but all in vain. At the mere mention of the Turk, or at the 
sight of the finger marks, which still remained on his arm, his face assumed 
an expression of indescribable horror, and his lips were sealed. This struck 
me as decidedly peculiar, and I more than once feared that he was allowing 
his mind to prey upon the incident. I permitted him to walk about, and 
he seemed to regain all his former strength, were it not for almost per- 
petual despondency, which seemed to have taken hold of him. I met him 
on deck one morning, appearing more than usually cheerful. The day was 
a bright and cheery one. Between the silver ribbon of morning and the 
green glittering ribbon of sea, the boat glided joyfully over the calm waters 
of the Mediterranean. "It's the thought of Old Blighty that's curing him 
and making him so joyful," I argued. My guess, I found, was not entirely 
correct. "Well, Captain," I said, "you seem to be enjoying yourself." "Yes," 
said he, "I have reason to be glad." It struck me as if he would have 
wished to say more. I did not question him, however, knowing his sensi- 
tive nature. I took hold of his wrist to feel his pulse, as customary. A 
glance showed me the cause of his joy. The finger-prints had vanished. 
"At last," I said to myself, "every trace of the affair has disappeared. It 
will be easy for him now to forget all about it." My hopes seemed not to 
be without foundation. I had as good as given him up as cured, and as 
he persevered in his usual reticence, paid him but little attention during 
the following part of the voyage, beyond a passing salutation. Only once, 
just before we reached Algiers, was my anxiety again aroused. I found 
him leaning over the rail one morn, his eyes intently examining his wrist. 
I could not help noticing the pained expression on his face as I passed. At 
Gibraltar we sailed alongside a Turkish galleon, which had its decks peopled 
with the lithe figures of the followers of the Prophet. Bancock, who was 
intently gazing on the honeycombed fortress, turned sickly pale at the sight 
of the turbaned multitude. It would seem, judging from the effect it had 
on him, as if each one of the swarthy Turks had invoked the curse of Allah 
on his head as he passed. A complete change came over him. The least 
little noise would upset him after that. His position grew so desperate 
that he had to occupy a room by himself. "Put this patient in Room 21," 
said I to the nurse, "I'll give him the best care." I had the adjoining room. 

tT WAS ON THE SECOND NIGHT after we had passed the straits. I 
A had retired at 10 o'clock, and was sleeping soundly, when I was awakened 
by a most unearthly shriek from the captain's room. I sprang to my feet 


(the ship's clock was just ringing the last stroke of twelve), threw my 
dressing gown about me, and, grasping my revolver, rushed from my room 
into No. 21. As I turned on the light, I beheld the captain with a livid 
face. He uttered not a word, but held out his forearm, in utter terror. I 
grasped it, and there impressed were the marks of the terrible fingers. I 
examined the room carefully, but there was no presence of any human 
agency to explain the phenomenon. "There is nothing the matter, Cap- 
tain," I assured him, though I thought far otherwise. I left an orderly to 
guard the door on the following night, but as the performance was repeated 
at the same moment, with the same fruitless search, I determined to watch 
the captain myself. This I accordingly did. As the first stroke of mid- 
night rang, I was startled by a most unearthly yell from the captain. At 
first it seemed to me that I could distinguish the words, "The Turk ! The 
Turk!" but it was in reality so inarticulate a sound that I afterwards in- 
terpreted it as "Allah's curse." I rushed to his side. His arms were held 
aloft in frenzy, and on the left wrist I found the inevitable finger marks, 
freshly made. These, I should have mentioned, did not remain on the 
arm longer than a few seconds, at most. This was consoling, after a fash- 
ion, were it not that my patient was daily sinking under the strain. 


• E REACHED LONDON THAT DAY. I was determined to see the 
the case to a finish. Placing the captain in the Nelson Hospital, I 
summoned the aid of the interne. "Doctor," said I, "there is something 
strange about the case of Captain Bancock." I related the story and what 
had happened so many successive nights. "Well," said he, "we will stay 
up tonight and keep our flashlights on the bed so that nothing can ap- 
proach without our seeing." "You have it," I returned, with enthusiasm. 
"We will solve the mystery tonight. Meet me at eleven," I added, and took 
my departure. He arrived at the appointed time. We armed ourselves 
with flashlights and revolvers, and slipped quietly into the captain's room. 
The room was dark, and we did not turn on the light, lest we should 
awaken him. It seemed a long wait till 11 :55. As the hands of our watches 
neared the hour, we kept our flashlights playing on the sleeping form. The 
face was decidedly placid, the posture, with the arms tucked snugly under 
the coverlet, was surely restful. Three strokes of the clock had already 
resounded, and I was giving up hope of the phenomenon being repeated. 
Six— seven— eight had sounded, and I was turning to the doctor with a 
look of approval, when suddenly my ears tingled with the most unearthly 
of screams. The arms of the captain were flung widely in the air. I showed 
the left wrist to the doctor. The freshly made finger marks were there. 


"Cursed be those prints !" I yelled, in fury. "Be their cause man or devil, 
we shall find it." 

But in vain! The case baffled the best physicians in the kingdom, 
and my patient was daily sinking. Night after night, the same thing hap- 
pened. I was reduced to desperation, as I knew it would be finally a case 
of insanity or death with the captain. I was discussing the matter with 
a very clever young doctor, who has since made quite a name for himself 
in Flanders. We had watched several nights together by the bedside. We 
were thinking out probable solutions for the mystery, when he suddenly 
proposed, "Let him sleep with his hands outside the coverlet tonight, Doc- 
tor." I agreed, as I was willing to grasp at any straw to save the cap- 
tain's life. 

ELEVEN FIFTY-FIVE found us sitting by the side of the sleeping Ban- 
cock, with a searchlight shining on his uncovered arms. The five 
slow minutes dragged by. As the clock began to strike the hour, we saw, 
to our surprise, the mysterious hand advance and grasp his left wrist. 
Then we heard him give the frightful scream. But the interim had solved 
the mystery. It was the man's own right hand. 

(With Apologies to W. M. Letts) 

SAW THE TOWERS of Spring Hill 

As I was standing nigh 
The Fire Step at zero hour 

Under a shell-rent sky. 
My heart was with the Spring Hill men 

Who came to France to die. 

The days glide fast at Spring Hill 

To golden years and gay, 
The whitened colleges peer down 

On mirthsome boys at play, 
Who, when Columbia spoke of war, 

Laid aside their games that day. 

Far from the shining lake, 
The football field, the quad, 

The rolling lawns of S. H. C. 
They sought a bloody sod — 

Their merry youth they gave away, 
For Country and for God. 

"God, bless you, glorious gentlemen, 
Who laid your good lives down, 

Who took the khaki and the gun 
In lieu of cap and gown." 

Enreathe you with a fairer bay 
Than academic crown. 


Between Two Flags 

OMRADES!" SHOUTED "RED MORRISON, the little hunch- 
back agitator from across the river, "the day has come for 
solidarity and united effort. Join the ranks of labor against the 
forces of industrial exploitation and economic oppression. Let 
the drum beat defiantly the roll of battle ! Shall we stand by 

with our hands in our pockets while thousands upon thousands 

of our young men and women are daily being sacrificed to the bloody Mo- 
loch of capitalism ?" 

"No!" thundered a deafening chorus, and from all sides the pent-up 
tide of ill-feeling and rebellion surged up, wave after wave, filling the large 
hall with a wild orgy of discord, dominated by the incendiary notes of the 

"Give us our rights ! Down the aristocrats !" 

WITH PEOPLE OF THIS KIND, Pete Scanlan had no sympathy. No 
ordinary socialist was this bright-eyed son of Erin. He was active 
because he felt his power ; convincing because he was sincere. 

As Tim MacLure used to say, "It's a lang way beyon' his nose the lad 
is seem', an' he's ill tae beat when he's playin' his own game." 

Now, everybody knows that reformers, religious and social, have no 
great love for men who are able and willing to think for themselves. No 
wonder, then, that the official heads of the I. W. P. A. looked askance on 
Pete, who passed for an "independent" or "blue" Socialist. Indeed, Pete 
was suspected at headquarters of aristocratic leanings. 

Said "Comrade" Tinker (taking good care, however, not to be over- 
heard by any of Pete's gang) : 

"Who in the last riot saved the Empire Lumber Mills ? Who protected 
the little Catholic Church during the September strike ? — Scanlan ! Always 
Scanlan! A dangerous subject — this man with his sleek manners and his 
perpetual: 'No violence, no imprudence!' It's enough to make a body 

The truth is that Pete Scanlan, labor leader and foreman at the Em- 
pire Mills, was one of those moral free-lances who are driven into the camp 
of Socialism by ignorance, and over-sensitiveness to the wrongs and short- 
comings of the social system. He knew something of the crimes of capital, 
and hated it to a point where religion and common sense had drooped and 
died. On the altar of social reform he had sacrificed everything; and when 



in consequence of his "conversion,'' nineteen-year-old Alice Murray had 
returned to him the ring which to him had stood the symbol of faithful and 
persevering love — even then his stout heart had not quailed. It was enough 
for him to know where his duty lay. 

ONE COLD OCTOBER MORNING, when the great strike of '98 was 
a/bout to come off, Pete was informed that Mr. Lawson, the mill- 
owner, wanted a word with him. 

The president's private offices lay somewhat apart from the main 
building, in a handsome two-story structure adorned with the gnarled in- 
tricacy of creeping scrub vine. 

As Pete passed through the yards, he did not fail to note the distant, 
if not altogether hostile, behavior of his brother Socialists. Was he sus- 
pected ? 

Mr. Lawson was waiting in the dark, heavily-carpeted inner office. 

'"Howdy-do, Scanlan !" said he, taking the young man's measure with 
a rapid sweep of his steel-gray, penetrating eyes. The drooping lines about 
his mouth relaxed slightly. The smooth, ingratiating voice tallied ill with 
the square, combative jaw. 

"Well, Scanlan," he resumed, with just the ghost of a smile, "I have 
called you to thank you on behalf and that of the company for the faithful 
service you have ever given our firm, notably during the last riots. My 
only regret is that I did not hear of the affair till recently. Allow me, 
therefore, in the name of all, to present you with a slight token of our grat- 
itude. I am going to deposit $10,000 in your name " 

"I assure you, Mr. Lawson, you are doing me an injustice. In speak- 
ing up for your mill, I did only what my conscience impelled me to do. As 
for those $10,000 " 

"Oh, blow your metaphysics ! You needn't consider them an out-and- 
out gift. There is (his voice sank to whisper) that strike instigated by your 
blithering, chuckle-headed I. W. P. A. agitators. If any man can stop it, 
you can. Take those $10,000— take $20,000! Now, then, there is a fair 

"Never!" snapped Scanlan. "Mr. Lawson, you know the terms of 
peace as well as I. I've got to stand by them — and I will stand by them, 
too !" 

The magnate jumped to his feet, gesticulating wildly. 

"Holy kippered herrings!" he cried, "I have nothing against you fel- 
lows, have I ? But I don't want to be ruined." 

"And I don't see how an eight-hour work day or a just minimum 
wage law " 


"Hold on!" stormed the infuriated capitalist, fairly dancing on his 
feet, "and what about the rights of the employer, the man who slaves day 
and night, trying to get markets ?" 

"He has his counsel and the state machinery." 

"Is that your last word, young man?" 

"It is." 

Mr. Lawson rang a bell. "John," he commanded, "show this man down- 

Pete felt that he was discharged. 

THAT SAME DAY the strike was declared. Pete, as usual, had coun- 
seled moderation and restraint, but somehow the word went round to 
burn and wreck, and spare nothing. The Empire Mills and the Economic 
Mills were reduced to ashes, and on the next morning Arthur Lawson was 
found dead near the smoldering ruins of his establishment. 

Presently Pete Scanlan, as acknowledged head of the strikers, was in- 
dicted on charges of arson and murder. Malicious tongues had not been 
slow in supplying the link between Pete's quarrel and the discharge and 
the subsequent death of the capitalist. The evidence seemed conclusive, 
and Scanlan was arrested and hurried into the county jail. 

A few days later he was arraigned before a Socialist committee, con- 
demned for treasonable conduct, and cut off from the party. 

Meanwhile the prosecution moved briskly, and judgment had been set 
for the next day, when late one night, Father Slaton, the old pastor of 
Milltown, walked into Pete's cell, unannounced. 

Scanlan turned about with a scowl. 

"How is the prisoner?" inquired the priest, doffing his hat and rub- 
bing has forehead, energetically. "I daresay you don't remember me — 
Father Slaton — yes ! Well, I'm bringing you some really good news, and I 
am glad I had something to do with it. In fact, I have it on good authority 
that you are going to be released." 

Pete stared, incredulously. 

"New evidence, I tell you! A girl who had been left behind in the 
mailing room at the time of the fire, was just coming down the escape when 
Mr. Lawson was shot. Well, she saw the man who fired — one of those extra 
hands who came before the strike. He is gone, but we'll get him, all right. 
It's a pity the girl did not tell me sooner ; but she was afraid, and I had to 
get her permission to let anybody know. 

"Here, then, you are — a free man! Of course, the responsibility for 
the riots has not been placed as yet, and you may be wanted. So we are 
going to hurry you off into some quiet corner — anywhere at all, so long as 


we can lay our hands on you in case you are needed. You're going on bail, 
you know." 

"But who is going to stand for me ? I haven't got the money." 

"Oh ! that's all right ! No trouble at all." 

"No, it is not all right, I tell you. The fact is I am not going. You 
don't know me." 

"I trust you fully. Besides, I have a little obligation of my own." 
"Anyhow, I am not going to leave this town like a thief. If I go, it will 
be in broad daylight, free and unsuspected, as I came." 

"That so? Well, maybe you will. Hello, there — come in!" 

THERE WAS A TRIPPING OF FEET outside the door, and forthwith 
a dark-eyed, rosy-cheeked young woman in black taffeta walked in, 
timidly at first, but gaining assurance with every step, until at length she 
stood before the prisoner, tremulously alive — a sunburst of fine lines 
radiating from her eyes. 

"Alice!" murmured Pete, coloring up, "how could you?" 

"How could I?" she pouted, flashing her vivid face toward him, and 
letting him gaze into the loving depths of those true, guileless eyes, "ask 
Father Slaton, and don't say you won't go, because we all want you to leave 
this awful place!" 

And she looked perfectly horrified. 

Pete stood motionless, looking from the priest to the girl, and from 
the girl to the priest. Suddenly he took a deep breath, and his eyes glowed. 

Out of the sullen night and through the barred prison windows, a 
faint, unsteady chorus floated: 

"Liberty, Equality, Frat— " 

"All right," whispered Pete, "I guess I'll go!" 

fMuftt mtii SCtjakt 

AID MUFTI to Khaki 
"Quite happy is life, 
I do not rise early, 

My work's not strife. 
My friends, they are many, 

My troubles are few. 
I am really delighted 
I am not like you." 

Said Khaki to Mufti 
"Life surely is hard, 
But think of the glory 

To be my reward; 
When you are forgotten, 

Far famed I will be, 
For the Nation will, aye, mourn 

Not you, but me." 

Songs of the Khakied Muse 

D. J. O'ROURKE, A.B. '23 

world's great epics prove this. Achilles and Homer, Orlando 
and Ariosto , Virgil and Aeneas are names so corelated as to bear 
out the fact that though the warrior is indebted to the poet 
for his fame, the latter is not the less owing to the war-like 
deeds of his hero for his theme. Envisaging war from its various angles, 
the poet has sung of the Trojan wars, the Roman adventures, the Mediaeval 
Crusades, the fields of Agincourt and Waterloo. Since Virgil and Tasso, he 
has spoken with martial eloquence through the voices of Spencer, Shake- 
speare, Milton, Byron, Burns and Campbell. Today he speaks with no 
less eloquence in the writings of Kipling, Binyon, Joyce Kilmer and Rupert 

UNITED IN THE PAST, Warrior and Poet are none the less inseparable 
now. Scarce had the dogs of war been unleashed and the tocsin of 
strife resounded in the waning summer of 1914, when poetry raised her 
voice. Faint enough at first, for, as the New York Times remarked, "War 
was too near, too overwhelming to allow the right perspective for our ver- 
sifiers" — it gradually lost its inferior timbre and became in time something 
more than an advertisement for war funds. True, its quality still remains 
far below the classic strains of "Ye Mariners of England," "The Island 
Hawk" and other productions of that kind. The theme, "Soul at war with 
soul," was yet too vast, and the work of the poet — the glorification of his 
theme — was not needed in the face of the stupendous forces, ideas and 
ideals then in conflict. 

THIS DOES NOT MEAN that some good war poetry has not been writ- 
ten. Such, indeed, is not the case. There have been good poems writ- 
ten by men in the trenches, by dying soldiers in the field, by pining sweet- 
hearts at home, by all who feel the wave of passion. From the opening 
days of the war the voice of the Khakied Muse has not been idle, and in its 
melody we can follow, step by step, as we shall show, the history of the 
world's great struggle. 


The piping ante-bellum days of Belgium have been well pictured by 
Lawrence Binyon in his lines to the Belgians : 

O race that Caesar knew, 

That won stern Roman praise, 
What land not envies you 

The laurel of these days? 

You built your cities rich 

Around each towered hall, 
Without, the statured niche, 

Within, the pictured wall. 

Your ship-thronged wharves, your marts 

With gorgeous Venice vied. 
Peace and her famous arts 

Were yours " 

The terrible ultimatum is not without its songster in the verses of 
Stephen Phillips, the well known poet and dramatist, entitled "The Kaiser 
and Belgium." He said: 

"Thou petty people, let me pass. 

What canst thou do but bow to me and kneel ? " 
But sudden a dry land caught fire like grass, 

And answer hurtled but from shell and steel. 

Sir Owen Seaman, the editor of Punch, whose spirited verses and 
editorship were a national asset, has figured the desolation of Belgium 
"Land of the Desolated, Mother of Tears, Weeping, Your Beauty Marred 
and Torn," in lines dedicated to one of the hero-priests of the Niobe of 
nations, by whose words they were prompted. 

TO CECIL CHESTERTON we turn for a commemoration of France's 
acceptation of the gauge thrown down by the Hohenzollern. "Clear 
the slow mists from her half-darkened eyes as slow mists parted over 
Valmy fell, as once again her hands in high surprise take hold upon the 
Battlements of Hell." Similar thoughts were expressed by Henry Van 
Dyke in his poem, "The Name of France," and by Grace Channing in "The 
Flags of France." Edgar Lee Meyers portrays the moral and abandon 
with which the Poilus faced the German Howitzers: 

You have become a forge of snow-white fire, 
A crucible of molten steel, o France! 
Your sons are stars who cluster to a dawn, 
And fade in light for you, o glorious France! 


The enthusiasm of England's "miserable little army" is well described 
by R. Kipling in "For All We Have and Are": 

For all we have and are 

For all our childrens' fate. 
Stand up and meet the war, 

The Hun is at the gate! 

Under the simple title of "A Song" the union of the life's blood of those 
fighting under Fleur de Lys and the Union Jack is celebrated : 

red is the English rose, 

And the lilies of France are pale. 

And the poppies lie in the level corn 

For the men who sleep and never return. 

But wherever they lie an English rose 

So red, and the lily of France so pale, 

Will grow for a love that never and never can fail. 

England's first sacrifices in the causes of liberty are commemorated 
in the verses of Rupert Brooke, "Blow Out You Bugles, Blow Over the 
Rich Dead." Brooke himself became a victim of the war. He was a fellow 
of King's College, Cambridge, and joined the Royal Naval Reserve as sub- 
lieutenant in September, 1914. Sailing with the British Mediterranean ex- 
peditionary force, he died in the Aegean on April 23, 1915. 

Brittania's grief for her fallen sons — mourning as a mother for her 
children, her dead across the sea, is expressed in Lawrence Binyon's lines 
"To the Fallen." 

Nor are the colonies without their chroniclers. In August, 1914, Ar- 
chibald T. Strong in an apostrophe, "Australia to England," emphasizes 
the fact that "Our fate with thine is one. Still dwells thy spirits in our 
hearts and lips. Honor and life we have from none but Thee." Canada's 
loyalty to old Blighty is expressed in the lines of Marjorie Pickthall. The 
names of Raleigh, Grenville, Wolfe, and "all the free fine souls who dare 
to front a world at war" are employed to foster the affection for "The Lit- 
tle Island Our Fathers Held for Home." The deeds of the Canucks ; their 
first gassing at Ypres on that dreaded April day — 

When out of the grim Hun line one night 

There rolled a sinister smoke; 
A strange weird cloud, like a pale green cloud, 

And death lurked in its cloak; 

The terror of the Afric hordes at this new-fangled method of warfare, their 


flight and the disastrous Hun advance till they met "Men of the open, East 
and West, brew of old Britain brew, who breathed those gases dread while 
some went under and some went mad, but never a man there fled." 

For the word was "Canada," theirs to fight, 

And keep on fighting still; — 
Britain said fight, and fight they would, 
Though the devil himself in sulphurous mood 
Came over that hideous hill. 

None of these are unsung. Nay, each detail of the war is figured. The 
dream of Tommy as he lies in the trenches under the hunter's moon, whose 
mind runs back to the lenches cut in a Wiltshire down, and compares his 
lot with that of his too-near neighbor Fritz, is admirably illustrated by 
Maurice Hewlett in his poem, "In the Trenches." Even No Man's Land 
is not without its Homer. James Knight Adkin, the master of Imperia 
College Wilton, who volunteered on the first day of the war, tells us that 
No Man's Land is an eerie sight at early dawn. In the pale gray light never 
a living soul walks there to taste the fresh of the morning air. "Only some 
lumps of rotting clay that were friends or foemen yesterday." 

Thomas Hardy, who received the Order of Merit in 1910, pays a trib- 
ute to the soldiers en route to the front, "To hazards whence no tears can 
win us" in "The Men Who March Away." 

The battlefield where around no fire the soldiers sleep tonight, but lie 
wearied on the ice-bound field is powerfully depicted by Sidney Oswald. 

The Middlesex "Chatterton," Henry W. Hutchinson, who was killed on 
the Western front, as second lieutenant, when only nineteen years old, 
has a beautiful sonnet on the horrors of the war. Looking across the chasm 
of the years, he sees the Pyre of Dido on the vacant shore, Medea's fury, 
and hears the roar of rushing flames. Comparing the fabled past with the 
all-too-real present, he vouches that "So wildly comes the cry of stricken 
women, the warriors call above, that I would gladly lay me down and die, 
to wake again where Helen and Hector move." 

For the sake of relief, it would seem, and perhaps to emphasize the 
contrast, Tertius Van Dyke leads us from the dead-strewn fields through 
sylvan glades of idyllic sweetness to Oxford. There, 'neath fair Magdalen's 
storied towers we wander in a dream and hear the mellow chimes float out 
o'er the ice-bound stream of Cherwell. And while the throstle and the 
black bird, stiff with cold, hop on the frozen grass, and the dun deer slowly 
pass among the aged upright oaks, our thoughts turn back to Flanders, 


where the eyes of England are focussed ; for when the Chapel organ rolls 
and swells — 

And voices still praise God 

we say instinctively, "But, ah! the thought of youthful friends that lie 
beneath the sod." 

The Chaplain to the forces receives an encomium from M. W. Lettes. 
She addresses him as "The Ambassador Christ, who goes to the very gates 
of hell through the fog of powder and storm of shell to speak His master's 
message" : 

It is not small, your priesthood's price, 
To be a man and yet stand by, 
To hold your life while others die. 

His chief office is thus described by her : 

In the pale gleam of newborn day, 
Apart in some tree-shadowed place, 
Your altar but a packing case, 
Rude as the shed where Mary lay, 
Your sanctuary the rain drenched shod, 
You bring the kneeling soldier God. 

The Red Cross has its bards in the persons of Eden Philpotts and Law- 
rence Bin yon. Even the cricketers who lob over the hand grenades with 
an eye as true as though it were a game and friends were having tea close 
'by, receives a eulogy from the effusion of James Norman Hall, a member 
of the American Aviation Corps. Nor are the war movies "those living 
pictures of the dead, those songs without a sound," forgotten in the verses 
of Henry Newbolt on the war films. 

Charles Hamilton Sorley, the brilliant scholar of University College, 
Oxford, who fell at Hulluch, on October 18, 1915, as captain — a rank which 
he attained in an incredibly short space of time, pays a very fitting tribute 
to the dead in two sonnets of wondrous gracefulness. One silent toast to 
the heroes who fell in the Battle of Champagne — to those whose blood hal- 
lows the soil where that same wine had ripened is called for by Alan Seeger, 
the well-known American poet: 

And in the wine that ripened where they fell, 
frame your lips as though it were a kiss. 

Seeger himself took part in the battle. He was a member of the For- 


eign Legion of France, and was killed at Belloy-en-Santerre, July 4, 1916. 
The wider issues of the war, the forecast of Greece's entrance, are de- 
scribed in W. Dixon's lines "To Fellow Travellers in Greece" : 

It was in the piping times of peace, 
We trod the sacred soil of Greece, 
Nor thought where the Ulissus runs, 
Of Teuton craft, of Teuton guns. 

The tides of war had ebbed away 
From Trachis and Thermopylae, 
Long centuries had come and gone 
Since that fierce day at Marathon. 

And so once more the Persian steel 
The armies of the Greeks must feel, 
And once again a Xerxes know 
The virtue of a Spartan foe. 

The entrance of Italy into the struggle is told by Clinton Scollard. The 
poet depicts that dream which will ever more return — the dream of Italy in 
May. The sky is a brimming azure urn, where lights of amber brood and 
burn. The domes of St. Antonio, where Padua reclines 'mid her mulberry 
trees ; the crescent flow of the Adige beneath Verona's balconies ; the Flor- 
ence of the Medicis ; Vienna's starlike streets ; Naples with her sapphires- 
arch of bay, her perfect sweep of shore — the Sabbath peace of all these is 
contrasted with the tumult that follows — 

But, hark! what sound the ear dismays, 

Mine Italy, mine Italy? 
Thou that wert rapped in peace, the haze 

Of loveliness spread over thee! 
Against iconoclastic might, 
In this grim hour I must wish thee well. 

America's participation on England's side was foreshadowed by Ten- 
nyson's lines in The London Examiner of February 7, 1852, entitled 
"Hands All Round"— 

Gigantic daughter of the West, 

We drink to thee across the flood, 
- - We know thee most, we love thee best, 

For art thou not of British blood? ; -' 


Should war's mad blast again be blown, 
Permit not thou the tyrant powers 
To fight thy Mother here alone, 

But let thy broadsides roar with ours, 

Hands all round 

speak to Europe through your guns, 

They can be understood by Kings! 

On April 10, 1917, H. Van Dyke heralded America's break for democ- 
racy in his "Liberty Enlight'ning the World" — 

Thou warden of the Western gate, above Manhattan's Bay, 
The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away; 
Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand 
To spread the light of Liberty world-wide for every land. 

After describing the conquer lust of Hohenzollern brains, he exclaims : 

No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might; 
They are the foeman of mankind. Up Liberty and smite and smite. 

He tells Columbia that Britain and France and Italy and Russia, newly- 
born, have waited for her in the night, and calls on her "Oh, come as comes 
the morn": 

Oh, come as comes the morn, 
Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise! 
With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. 

England's welcome to her noble ally was voiced by Robert Bridges, the 
poet laureate of England, in his poem, "Brothers in Blood." Rawnsley, 
the chaplain to His Majesty, described the wonder of the Angels even at 
this moment with fate: 

Not since wren's dome has whispered with man's pray 

Have Angels leaned to wander out of Heaven 

At such uprush of intercession given 

Here where today one soul two nations share. 

Lieutenant Ratcliff, in his "Optimism," heralds the dawn of peace — 
the last of the long year which seemed to dream no end ; whose every day 
but turned the world more drear, slaying some hope or leading away some 
friend. For tiny hopes, like tiny flowers, will come, and sweeter days be 

His Captain's Call 

Mission of Robert Hugh Benson 


ears of the world were being busied with tales of battles and 
sieges, that a message was flashed across the Atlantic which 
sent a thrill through the American Catholic heart. Robert Hugh 
Benson was dead! On the morrow the columns of the daily 
press were crowded with reminiscences of the distinguished con- 
vert's visit to the United States. 

He had made for himself a host of enthusiastic admirers during his 
few brief sojourns amongst us. Seldom had a successful writer of books 
that may be classed as literature obtained such a hold on the affection of 
our public. "Several distinguished authors," they said, "had come to Amer- 
ica in late years with well-founded expectation of enhancing their reputa- 
tion by personally presenting themselves in academic halls and public as- 
sembly rooms. Yet, not in every case were thase hopes fulfilled. Mathow 
Arnold was a distinct disappointment, and was soon forgotten. The genial 
Justin McCarthy made no marked impression one way or the other on the 
sympathy of our people." Where these had failed, Benson had succeeded, 
and that owing neither to reputation or eloquence, but rather to a captivat- 
ing personality. 

EVEN THE TRIVIALTIES which displayed the geniality and perfect 
abandon of the son of the Archbishop of Canterbury were not forgot- 
ten. One recalled the evening at Fordham, when, being espied among the 
audience of Dr. Walsh's lecture on "The Spiritual World," and invited to the 
platform, Mgr. Benson threw "with the most perfect grace imaginable, a 
bomb into the audience" by flatly denying the Dean's thesis, which claimed 
that electric light had banished ghosts. Another was insistent on the fact 
that when he visited Sing Sing with Hugh Benson, Hugh showed his ultra- 
boyish tendencies by insisting on being strapped in the electric chair. The 
journey to Albany in the locomotive, whence he dismounted with grimy 
face to the amazement of the crowding reporters ; the return trip on the 
Olympic, when his stateroom was so crowded with jewelry that he com- 
pared his voyage to that of a popular actress returning from the States— 


all these were recalled with a certain pathos which diversified as they 
were, portrayed the fact that America still loved and had not forgotten 
that fairest flower of England's second spring. 

SUCH WERE THE ACCOUNTS current in the press at the moment 
when across the waters the little group of mourners laid to rest 'neath 
the Calvary in the orchard at Hare street under a slab with the simple in- 
scription of his own devising: 


Sacerdos Catholicae 

Et Romanae Ecclesiae 

Peccator Expectans ad Revelationem Filiorum Dei. 

R. I. P. 

Obiit XIX die Octobris A.D. MDCCCCXIV, Et Aetatis Suae XLIII 

R .H. B. Priest of the Catholic and Roman Church 

A Sinner Looking Into the Revelation of the Sons of God 

Died Oct. 19, 1914. Aged 43 

By the orchard gate, near his chapel, where dwells His Lord, clothed 
in the white robes of the sacramental species, Hugh Benson awaits the 
revelation of the sons of God. What a sweet significance this gives to the 
last verse of his poem, "A Halt," written years before : 

But, ah! dear Savior, human-wise, 

I yearn to pierce all mysteries, 

To catch Thine hands, and see Thine eyes 

When evening sounds begin. 

There, in Thy white robe, Thou wilt wait 
At dusk beside the orchard gate, 
And smile to see me come so late, 
And, smiling, let me in. 

DYING AT THE AGE OF FORTY-THREE, when the morning of man's 
life has just but touched its noon, Hugh Benson achieved more in that 
short space than is commonly given to the longest career to put to its ac- 
count. The eleven years of his Catholic life, judged by its labors, might be 
called, in the poet's phrase, "Eleven years of years". With over a score 
of novels to his credit, almost as many devotional works, a host of lectures 
and sermons delivered in two continents and a cycle of engagements still 
staring at him — it was not to be wondered that Mgr. Benson acknowledged 
a year before his death that he was "obliged to draw in his horns". He had 
worked, as he said, himself "on the very edge of his capacities," burnt the 



candle at both ends, and all that he might give the better light. Meteor- 
like, he had flashed across the Church's horizon, astonishing not so much 
by the brightness of his blaze as by the suddenness and unexpectedness of 
his ascent. His triumph was heightened by the fact that it was un- 
looked for. 

When, after days at Eton and Cambridge, after ordination, parish ex- 
perience and an attempt at community life as an Anglican, Hugh Benson 
entered the Catholic Church at thirty-two, he had given little or no sign 
of the mental and spiritual development possible to him. "It might not 
have been unreasonably supposed," said Wilfrid Meynell, "that he would 
depend for his importance on the paradox of his position — that of the first 
son of an English Primate — (barring only Toby Mathew) to become a Cath- 

IT WAS NOT TO BE SURMISED that the young Etonian, who showed no 
predilection for study, save that he read Milton at ten and wrote tiny 
plots ; who was remarkable for nothing except that he walked with a shuf- 
fle, and when teased about it showed extreme sensitiveness — it was not to 
be supposed that such a youth could count on any success but that of curios- 
ity. His classics had ever been a bore to him, Latin being a special bugbear, 
for his "uts" final, strive as he would, could not take the subjunctive. 
Again he had started, but never made any progress in German and French, 
English being the only modern language he ever mastered. His weekly let- 
ters from home were stocked with phrases of this kind : "Dearest Laddie — 
Won't you please apply yourself this week?" He went in for the Indian 
Civil Service and failed, passed but with a third at Cambridge, trying by 
the help of a diet of green tea — (for he desired to get through with a first 
as his father, uncles and brothers had done) — to acquire the learning of 
the ages in a few months. As we recall the boy who was ever ranked as a 
second-rater by his professors, who won but one prize during his whole col- 
lege career — the Harvey prize for a poem on Father Damien, and turn to 
the author of the "Lord of the World" in his study, with his books and 
sermons read in every part of the English-speaking world, we are loath to 
admit an identity, and can not blame the Catholic public for regarding Hugh 
Benson on his entrance to the Church at thirty-two as "a rather idle addi- 
tion to the fold." 

True, the discerning eye can now look back and detect resemblances 
between the boy and man. The child who eternally caressed the uncanny, 
and yet would not enter a darkened room because of its surmised "blood- 
pools and corpses," we might now readily apprehend as the author of "The 
Light Invisible" or "The Mirror of Shallott." In the boy who elected the 


suicides' room at Cambridge, who played ghosts to his own terror in the 
Fellows' garden at King's, who hypnotized and held seances with his com- 
panions to his mother's fear and father's anger, we now can see the creator 
of "The Necromancers" and "The Sentimentalists." The youth who de- 
tested so much the dentist's chair and manifested a realization of pain 
given but to the few, affords some resemblance at least to the hand which 
penned Robin's racking in "Come Rack, Come Rope," or introduced to the 
world Sir Neville Fanning with his endless headaches. Again, as we read 
the gorgeous Church pageantry of "The Dawn of All," the Mass scenes in 
"By What Authority," we turn with natural instinct to the lad who clothed 
himself with monkish robes and violet cassocks at Eton, who donned gor- 
geous Japanese costumes, delighted in Cardinal's geranium red, and was 
never so happy at home as when topped by a gorgeous "Purple cap" he 
held his father's (the Archbishop's) train. The author of the miracle plays 
we may now discern in the organizer of Greek choruses and masquerades, 
who though he never took a part more important than that of a member 
of the chorus in "The Ion" of Euripedes, yet loved theatricals so well, that 
on the night before ordination he confesses his "one regret is that he can 
never enter a theatre again." Afterwards from his last bed of sickness he 
will have hied to the motion pictures for relief. 

EVEN IN HIS BLUNDERS some will now find a similitude. As a boy 
he staged a puppet show of the martyrdom of a Becket to find on the 
curtain going up, that the figure of the martyred Archbishop is lost. The 
martyrdom, we are told, had to be enacted without the presence of the 
martyr. Such a lad, they will tell us, is father to the man who in the open- 
ing chapters of "By What Authority" makes Anthony have blue eyes be- 
fore Elizabeth, later they are brown : who has his hero ride in Scotch furs 
all during the tale, they being unheard of in England till twenty-five years 
later: who even as Mgr. will not disdain to publish posters for his plays la- 
beled, "Admission Free, Children Half Price." 

But this at best is retrospective. Now the discerning eye can detect 
similarities between Hugh Benson, the author, and Hugh Benson, the boy. 
But in 1903, when he entered the Church, it was not so. Then "Initiation" 
and "The Dawn of All" were mere possibles, remote ones, too. He who 
should then announce a glorious future for the young convert would have 
been stamped with the seal of a false prophet. 

Even in Rome, after conversion, Hugh Benson had not yet awakened. 
The program of studies there for the Catholic priesthood appals him. He 
almost faints at having to study Hebrew (no wonder), and asks to be or- 
dained at the end of the first year — a request which was granted. His 


appreciation of the intellectuality of his surroundings is decidedly chary. 
He there delights in the company of a young Irish priest "with a flaming 
red face, and a brogue that leaves stains after it," partly because "He is 
the best educated, I have met, knows lots of things, George Eliot and 
optics," but above all because "He tells innumerable funny stories not con- 
nected with ecclesiasticism !" His love for the lectures at the propaganda 
is about as great as that he bore his father's Greek Bible class, and to the 
end his ignorance on many essential things remains abysmal. 

SUCH, THEN, WAS HUGH BENSON thirteen years ago, at the eve 
of ordination. While his brothers, Arthur and Fred, had already at- 
tained distinction in scholarship and letters, Hugh showed but little prom- 
ise. It seemed as if the boyish, blue-eyed, blond-haired neophyte were fated 
to depend for his success on his father's fame and the paradox of his own 
spiritual standing. 

Benson, however, was not to be a paradox in the spiritual world alone, 
he was also to be an intellectual paradox. The awaking came in God's good 
time. He who before, on his way to his father's death-bed, had opened in 
the train the prophetic words contained in the second lesson of the "Even 
Song," appointed for that day; "Lord, suffer me first to bury my father, 
and then I will follow Thee," now that he had received of the plentitude of 
the light, and was called to take his stand in the forefront of Catholic en- 
deavor, replied in the final words of "Loneliness" (words which were to 
prove his life's epitome) , "Jesus, my Knight, I am ready now." "It was to 
be Jhe test and triumph of Mgr. Benson's achievements," says Wilfrid Mey- 
nell, "that his origin would be swiftly forgotten in his own originality, and 
that he would become far too eminent in himself to be thought or spoken 
of any more as his eminent father's son." 

Wordsworth says : 

"Give all thou canst, high Heaven rejects the lore 
Of nicely calculated less or more." 

ORDAINED A PRIEST, Hugh Benson will be a spendthrift of his soul 
in the cause of truth. With bands yet moist, the annointed of God 
has visions of his life's work, "his mission" dawning upon him. He will 
be a hero, yet he knows not in what field. From Rome he looks across the 
Atlantic. America with her modern churches ("Business offices of the 
supernatural," he afterwards called them) beckons him. What if he should 
labor to restore the Anglo-Saxon element to the Church through America ! 
Undecided, he looks toward England and sees ranged on one side a bigot 


press with its anti-Roman propaganda ; Anglicanism, slighted by Leo's de- 
cision, out for revenge ; followers of the infidel trinity, Huxley, Spencer and 
Darwin, spreading their errors in the broad face of Heaven with their 
twentieth century landstrum, Socialism and Modernism to fill up the rear. 
Battling against them, what though with fearful odds, he beholds the same 
thin line of heroes that swings back to Newman and Faber. The die is 
cast. At this spiritual Thermopylae he will take his stand. "It was an 
anxious moment for the English Church," says a writer, "when Hugh Ben- 
son stepped into the breach. There was no one to put the case before the 
non-Catholic public. Manning and Newman and men of that ilk were need- 
ed, but they were gone. Our writers were unread, our preachers unheeded." 
It was not to be so with Benson. With the two weapons at command, 
the press and pulpit (he knows not which to choose, is advised differently 
by friends, and finally decides for both), his words shall be read and heard 
in every corner of the British Isles. His first blow will be leveled at An- 
glicanism. To the Reformation, he will go, and under the most specious 
guise of all, the modern novel will show them the inconsistency of their 
position. "By What Authority" comes forth, and Protestant England lis- 
tens, for one who has been cradled in the Anglican fold, and has the very 
aura of it about him, has spoken. "By What Authority," I may note, was 
begun before conversion. But the young Anglican minister who told his 
beads like any nun and carried the sacrament to the sick, to the village's 
amaze, found no difficulty in showing the incongruity of the struggle be- 
tween the state, apotheosized in the person of Elizabeth Tudor and the 
Church. "Oddsfish," suggested by the favorite expletive of Charles II, 
"The Greatest of Sinners, Yet a Penitent One," whose moods and modes 
and policies and the springs and consequences of the anti-Popish plat, are 
set forth by Roger Mallock, an ex-Benedictine novice, of noble blood and 
many tongues, succeeded. In "The King's Achievement," an epic on the 
monasteries, with its brilliant historical gallery, filled with the portraits of 
England's great ones, he presents a remarkable tableaux of the reformers. 
Cranmer and King Hal, looming large in their obloquy, took for the first 
time wry shapes in the eyes of their Protestant worshipers. Years be- 
fore, when requesting his Anglican congregation to sing "Faith of Our Fa- 
thers," Hugh Benson took care to remind them that he did not mean by 
these fathers, "Henry VIII and that bunch." 

I DO NOT WISH TO DISCUSS HIS NOVELS as literature, for Hugh 
Benson's place in literature is not yet determined. I wish but to em- 
phasize their power for good. It was impossible that these books with their 
style of English home-spun, shot through with argument, should not find 


a reading public among nonjCatholics. Never before had the Catholic case 
been put on the agreeable form of the novel to Anglicans. 

Hugh, however, would command a wider circle of readers. Walter 
Savage Landor has said when referring to his own writings: "When I 
feast, my banquet hall shall be well lighted, but the guests few." The 
phrase reveals the polarity of their tactics. Landor wrote for the few; 
Benson for the many. Here his versatility stands out in bold relief. He 
could produce a modern like "Initiation" or a mystical mediaeval romance 
like "Richard Raynal," or a prophetic phantasy like "The Dawn of AH"; 
all with equal ease and perfection. When asked how his novel is progress- 
ing, he asks, "Which?" for he wrote two simultaneously. He was able to 
leap back into the past or onwards into the future, and downwards into the 
spiritualistic world as easy as other people would play a game. 

and "None Other Gods," he reveals modern men and women to them- 
selves, and shows them the meaning of their soul, naturally Catholic, inex- 
plicable, save by allowing God's summons to Catholicism. He has been de- 
scribed as ruthless. As a ruthless writer, where ruthlessness comes into 
the scheme of man's salvation, let him be ranked. He wished to explode 
the infidel element in England. Hence in the spiritual warfare he gave no 
quarter. I have already hinted at his shrinkage from pain. To conquer 
this in later years, he endures an operation without an opiate, a sharp les- 
son of sixt> hours. (Perhaps, someone relates, his purpose was not so en- 
tirely disinterested. Once before when under an anaesthetic, he uttered 
nothing but "0 God" — thought by the nurses "So pious." But it wasn't 
pious, he afterwards confessed, it was a swear). His characters conse- 
quently, projections of himself are often doomed to Iliads of suffering — 
The Coward to his burning — Sir Neville Fanning to his headaches : but all 
with a purpose. For all Benson's novels, Shane Leslie reminds us, "Lead 
Romewards." That sentiment of his uttered as an Anglican in Egypt, "We 
arc nowhere," is recurrent all through. "There is but one Church, all the 
rest are appendages, like an Englishman's India rubber bath. "Many an 
infidel," says a writer, "has been converted by these two scenes in "The 
Dawn of All," the Pope's volor flight to Berlin, and that where Mgr., 
after witnessing the Pope ride across Rome in triumph, becomes disgusted 
with the worldliness of the Church pageant, but to surprise the Pontiff 
at confession before a bare-footed friar next morning. 

Though a firm believer in printer's ink, Mgr. Benson had another 
weapon he could ply still more deftly in behalf of truth. "This evening's 
preacher," sighed the verger of a large London church, "is giving me a 


very great deal of trouble." "The poor man," we are told "had been be- 
wildered by the flocking crowds asking for places to be reserved ; and he 
half wished Mgr. Benson were not ranked among "The Great Preachers of 
Today," as some of his severest critics, who were loath to accord him a 
place among the supreme writers, ranked him !" "Would that he could write 
like he can preach," was frequently remarked by his audiences. 

ily forget the impression. The boyish face with the shock of untidy- 
looking hair, the slight figure, the awkward poise did not augur well. "He 
was an insignificant little fellow," he was told, again and again, "but when 
he spoke ten words, the whole congregation listened ecstatically." "There 
was the dry, roughened voice, with its crust of ice, and 'its core of 
fire.' Yet not there was the magic. Nor was the magnetism in the some- 
what restless eyes. Nor was the 'inevitable impressiveness' in the 'level 
torrents of words' with their accompaniment of tense muscles and throbbing 
veins. Not in the preacher's theme, as he revealed the worldling's trinity 
of lusts to be illusory — for many preached that doctrine." "Yet few," says 
a writer in Everyman, "could convey it as Benson, awkward of pose and 
sparing of jesture, could. The large, warm kindliness of a Canon Sheehan, 
the liberal and disciplined culture of a Canon Barry, the sunny, artless, 
spiritual intimacy of a Father Russell were not there" ; but an unflinching 
proclamation of the human in the light of the supreme trumpet-call of 
God for England, Anglican and infidel to return to His fold. 

There were defects, to be sure, in these Plainman John sermons, gaps 
in the argument, and the Protestant and Pagan philosophers held up their 
hands at the logical lacunae — but they came all the same. Hugh Benson, 
who "went to convert, as so many of his countrymen go to war, in the 
spirit of sport, showed plenty of grim resolve beneath the gallant cheer of 
his attack, by undertaking to correct with these defects the lightning rapid- 
ity of his speech, to which his critics also took exception," and even the 
mirth-provoking squeak which he playfully termed his "coyote yell." 

His mother, a constant attendant at his sermons, did not hesitate, lov- 
ingly, to give what advice she might for the increasing of their cogency; 
and follcwed with special sympathy the success which attended them. This 
was so great that his brother Arthur was asked by the Protestant authori- 
ties to use his influence with Hugh that he should leave Cambridge, his 
reputation as a proselytiser there being so general. No one living had so 
much influence over non-Catholic audiences. Engaged as much as two 
years in advance, he preached in the three capitals and in nearly all the 


large cities of the United Kingdom. In Dublin, where he confessed himself 
more at home than in England, his success was phenomenal. 

Cathedrals, however, were not his favorites. By-ways and hedges 
were what attracted him. Taking as much care and trouble over the poor- 
est as the richest congregation, he is more at ease with his rustic audience 
on the Motor Mission than with the more cultured ones in San SUvestro or 
the .baP-room of the Hotel Astor. "He makes me want to be square with 
God," said an old collier, grimy from the coal pits, as the tears wade white 
channels down his blackened cheeks. "If Benson were here for a year, I 
would not miss a night," said a hitherto hard-shelled Baptist. "Why were 
not these things told us before?" came from a chorus of Anglicans, as 
referring to the way in which Benson showed the fallacies of their religion 
beside the iight of Catholic truth. 

Hugh Benson was undoubtedly a great motive force for good. To 
preach and write unceasingly, and that continuously for eleven years, was 
"His Mission," his gift to the English Church. Those who will not appre- 
ciate his books or sermons will at least regard the love of the giver. The 
result of his labors^ though partly visible in the numerous conversions of 
Protestants and infidels, is not ours to determine. God alone can descry 
its proportions. For Him alone be these words written on this spiritual 
temple, "Si monumentum quaeris, circumspice." 

The traveler standing before the frescoes of Fra Angelico, feels what 
the canvases of Raphael and Rubens can never inspire. As we survey the 
life of Robert Hugh Benson, convert son of the English Primate, with its 
unpromising (but stainless) youth, its noble and brilliant manhood, its 
glorious mission, its "soldierlike facing of the dark and terrible crossing" 
while the war cloud hung over the waning autumn — we are struck with a 
sympathy which but few converts' lives can inspire. We hear the very 
heart-throbs of one of those noble souls — one of that — 

"Choir Invisible of the immortal dead 
Who live again in minds made better by their presence." 

Our Veteran 


A venerable aspect! 
Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, 
And worthily becomes his silver locks! 
He wears the marks of many years well spent, 
Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience. 


HILE OUR ATTENTION is centered on our young heroes who 
are endeavoring at the cost of their lives to teach the Old World 
the supreme lesson of American Ideals, it is but right that our 
thoughts should revert occasionally to the older heroes who 
have instilled those same ideals into their hearts and made the 
cultivation of them the chief labor of their lives. That Fr. 
Klein is one of that noble type who have given their all for the uplift of our 
youth, Spring Hill can testify. Full many a year she has been an admir- 
ing witness of his heroism and devotion within her halls. Long has she 
waited an opportunity of expressing her appreciation. She saw the en- 
thusiastic young scholastic of the early sixties devoting his every energy 
for the intellectual and moral betterment of her pupils — 'but she was silent. 
She welcomed back the newly-ordained in the eighties, beheld him conse- 
crate his noblest and best in her behalf — saw him place the first fruits of 
his years of study and religious training at her feet: — yet she spoke not. 
It was not until the cycle of years had turned, and the olden reaper of 
Christ had grown white in constant harvesting that she set her seal upon 
his work. Her appreciation sought expression 'mid sound of Jubilee Bells 
in the informal reception given in his honor on August 1. It was evinced 
by the presence of His Lordship, the Bishop of Mobile, and many of his 
priests, and was voiced above all in the letter of Very Rev. Fr. General, who 
"Thanked his devoted son for his great and useful labors — had fifty masses 
offered for his intention and sent his special blessing." 

TtST THESE DAYS BIG WITH FATE, Fr. Klein's life might seem unevent- 
J- ful to the cursory observer, for it was hidden to a great extent in the 
classroom and cloister. He who reads deeper will find it to be the story of 
a fixed purpose and its heroic execution. Born into momentous times in 
'48, his childhood days tell of an early preparation for his future career, evi- 
denced by an unusual piety and a love of assisting at the Holy Sacrifice in 
the Church of Our Lady, near his home. His school days at the Sisters of 


Mercy, and later at St. Norbert's, mark a further development in this pre- 
paration. Then comes a momentary deflection — two years spent in the 
study of medicine — which serves but to emphasize the clearness of the 
call when it comes. In 1875 at a mission given by two Jesuit Fathers, the 
voice of the Master is heard. Young Klein listens, and his life's work opens 
up before him. He will devote himself to the education and salvation of 
youth. His own native land cannot be his field of labor, for expulsion of 
the Society was impending. America, accordingly, becomes his chosen 

He gave himself unreservedly to his work of preparation. Sault au 
Recollet will tell of his earnest noviceship ; Ste Marie, Montreal, of his zeal- 
ous prosecution of the classics; Woodstock was witness of his application 
in the study of Philosophy and Theology. Anointed on June 11, 1881, with 
the sacred insignia of the priesthood, he inaugurated an enviable career 
of zealous self-sacrificing service for his fellowmen. Through years of 
patient drudgery in the class-room — the fruits of which were hidden for 
many years but to blossom forth the more surely in the lives and deeds 
of the youths committed to his care, he ascended to positions of the high- 
est trust and responsibility. Nor yet was his zeal satisfied. Mobile, Galves- 
ton and New Orleans will bear witness to the fact that while shouldering 
burdens that would have taxed the strength of ordinary individuals, he was 
seeking new outlets for his zealous fervor in the giving of retreats and mis- 
sions, and even in the catechising of college students. It was not till his 
noble heart had spent itself in behalf of others, and Time's iron hand had 
left its imprints on that sturdy frame, that his activity relaxed. Today, the 
Father impresses one by his cheerfulness and never-failing wit. So little 
has he lost of his former vivacity that the first line alone of Saxe's verse 
would seem to apply to him — 

I'm growing fonder of my staff; 

I'm growing dimmer in the eyes; 
I'm growing fainter in my laugh; 

I'm growing deeper in my sighs; 
I'm growing careless of my dress; 

I'm growing frugal of my gold; 
I'm growing wise; I'm growing — yes, 

I'm growing old. 




HERMAN WAS RIGHT P' muttered Albert Macey, as he awoke 
from a deep slumber in a dismal dugout. "How I wish I were 
out of this inferno !" he repeated, peering through the thick driz- 
zle of the October morn at the thin line of khakied figures that 
manned the fire-step outside. He had been dreaming of his 
happy Chicago days. The thought of the life of ease he had lost, contrast- 
ed with the dull day's drudgery before him was maddening. "How lucky 
Kevin was to escape all this," was the one idea uppermost in his mind "as 
he awaited the order to 'stand-to.' " 

REARED IN THE LAP OF LUXURY, the Macey s had ever viewed life 
from a standpoint purely material. Ideals formed no part of the 
family make-up. They were unconscious of their existence. A patriot with 
them was nothing less than a clever camoufleur out to make a name. De- 
mocracy! — "why worry about such an abstraction?" Liberty of small 
nations — "what had that to do with their limousine ?" Came the relentless 
draft, with their consequent plea for exemption. Why should they fight 
for ideals ? Kevin chanced to be married, and availed himself of it to estab- 
lish his claim. Albert was less fortunate, and though he registered many 
appeals, was at length consigned to a cantonment. 

ALL THIS WAS TWO YEARS AGO. Hard as the soldier's life had 
been to him from the outset, it had lost none of its bitterness now. 
Others had been inducted from homes of similar standing, and found things 
hard at first. But somehow or other the sight of themselves in khaki had 
awakened something in them which had made all these things easy. Al- 
bert Macey was not aware of the presence of such a thing within him. In 
fact, he was almost certain that it did not exist there. His companions had 
noticed his discontent, and tried to console him by holding before his eyes 
the honor attached to the military calling. This was too much for him. He 
showed them the weekly letters he received from Kevin — glowing accounts 
of the joys of civilian life, and asked : "What has a soldier's life to show 
in comparison with such pleasures? Honor! Why, I do not know its 
meaning!" It usually ended up that way, so he was gradually left alone, 
being regarded as incurable. 

YESTERDAY HE HAD RECEIVED one of those unworthy epistles. 
It was almost an inducement to desert. "There is a fad over here," 


his brother had written, "it goes by the name One-Hundred-Per-Cent-Amer- 
icanism. I look on it as a new form of insanity. Yesterday I was accosted in 
the street by someone who had the insolence to ask me if I would enlist. I 
asked him how much a soldier draws a month. 'Thirty or so dollars,' was 
the reply. 'Well, I am getting over $1,000/ I replied, 'besides, if I was put 
on the machine gun corps, or some of those other uncanny positions, my 
life would average only six minutes, or thereabouts, and doctor says I'm 
good for thirty years to come. So I am sorry I can't see your proposal. 
Civilian's life for me !' With that I bade him good day. You know, Albert, 
all that routine would set me crazy, and I don't see how you have survived 
it." Albert was not so sure that he would do so. The energy of despair 
had seized him. Someone should suffer that his life had been ruined. His 
own countrymen he could not injure. He sprang up on the fire-step and 
looked in the direction of the German traverse. A voice rang from the 
rear, "Stand down!" He did so, and found himself face to face with the 
commanding officer. "Since you are so brave, we'll have you in the 'Suicide 
Corps.' We need an extra man at one of the machine guns." 

ALBERT'S HEART SANK. He did not reply, but followed the lieuten- 
ant down the communication trench. A few minutes more, and he 
found himself in company of four others learning the ins-and-outs of the 
Lewis gun. The post was one of danger, as it faced a huge Hun bridge- 
head salient which ran along south of the Marne. The trench looked more 
like a cemented shell-hole than anything else. It was separated from the 
main line by a road. This thoroughfare was shelled so constantly by the 
Boches that the only means of establishing communications with the rest 
of the fortifications was by timing the shells and getting across during the 
intervals of quiet which occurred at regular periods of three-quarter or 
half ^minutes, according to the nature of the gun used. Albert was sent on 
some such errands, and felt about as comfortable as if he were standing 
on his head in the middle of the Loop. Once when he returned from one 
of these expeditions, he found that their emplacement had been spotted by 
a sniper, who, taking it for an observation post, had telegraphed back to 
the artillery. As the "Crump" shells came dropping in the crater, his 
companions hied to a dugout for shelter. The shells kept apace with them, 
for the sniper recorded the speed with which they ran. As a consequence, 
three of them were instantly "clicked," and the fourth managed to get out 
of range by simply standing still and turning to the right. 

had scarcely trained it on the fire sector, when he noticed a party of 
Germans making for the American trench. As far as the eye could reach, 


there were large troops of Huns in motion. The last great offensive had 
begun. His first impulse was to surrender, but even that might not save 
his life. Wheeling around the gun, seven of the Boches clicked it. A heavy 
blow from a musket felled him from behind — for the Huns had taken pos- 
session of the road below. 

wife, watching a park-parade of soldiers en route for France, and 
were complimenting themselves on their more pleasant civilian environ- 
ments, when the evening paper was delivered. It contained a glowing ac- 
count of Albert Macey's heroism and death for his country. Kevin read 
the account with intense interest. At the concluding words of the writer, 
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" (it is sweet and honorable to die for 
one's country), he laid down the paper and fell into a reverie. His wife, 
not caring to intrude on his thoughts, withdrew to the kitchen. As she 
returned, after sometime, he raised his head. His exemption card was 
lying on the table. "I've no further need for this!" he remarked, "I am 
going to take Albert's place, and have waived my claim." 



(Killed in the Rainbow Division at the Marne, July 29, 1918) 

Amid the rainbow team of Old Spring Hill 

No brighter-colored light played fair than thou ; 

Amid the flowers of youth around her rill, 

None brighter smiled with aspect rare than thou. 

Thy bud was perfume to our classic lawn, 
Thy spark presaged an everlasting dawn. 

But, lo ! full-grown, on fields of Rainbow showers, 
Where reddened deep the sunset-glory settles, 

By blood-stained Marne, where fell the bleeding flowers, 
Aye, bend we soft, to catch thy perfumed petals. 

Thou art not blighted, Rose of Old Spring Hill, 
Undimmed, thy dawn among us will remain ; 

We'll catch thy cheers in falling of the rill, 
Thy spirit on the lawn shall live again. 

—A. C. M. 



®lj? i^pringljUUan 


OCTOBER, 1918 

No. 1 

ioarfc of E&ttnra— 131B-13 


Editor-in-Chief: T. HAILS 

Junior Editor: M. BURKE 

Home News: G. SCHWEGMAN 

Alumni Editor: W. 

J. RUSSELL S. A. T. C. Notes: 

A. Emrich 

Exchange Editor: J 

. KOPECKY Chronicle: 
Associate Editor: J. CRONIN 

Business Manager: 

Ed. a. Strauss 



Advertising Manager 

: M. VlCKERS Circulation Manager: 


. Sere 



The old order changeth, our colleges — Spring Hill among them — have 
entered upon a new era. From college to camp marks the turn. Their 
halls are thronged with khaki-clad students, whose every movement is 
regulated not by the old accustomed sound, but by bugle-call. From taps 
to reveille, their walls, in some of which one may read the story of a cen- 
tury, look down on scenes unprecedented in their annals. To perform their 
share, they have divested themselves of academic costume and laid aside 
their old traditions. When the bugles sounded war, they were of the 
first to send their sons overseas. Irrespective of the inequality in pro- 
portion of time, they had soon given as many of their alumni to the colors 
as the leading colleges of England or France. Yet, they were not content: 
With the S. A. T. C. movement, a new outlet was given their patriotism. 
They opened their doors to all who were willing to merge their identities 
with the U. S. Army. Their ancient program they willingly sacrificed to 
the needs of the moment. Placing their faculties at the disposal of the 
Government, they pledged their troth to fulfill their obligations. The col- 
leges have done their part. It is for the students to do theirs now. That 
all are willing to respond we have not the least doubt. But a word to the 


wise will not be misplaced. It is a common error in military schools — men 
of West Point, Aldershot, and the French Polytechnical Schools will bear 
witness — for students to ignore the possibilities of the present and centre 
all their hopes on a future of intangible realities. "When I am in France" 
is the slogan of not a few who live on expectations, while neglecting to 
avail themselves to the full of their present opportunities. Our word to 
them is : don't wait till you are on the firing line to give of your all. To 
do his duty, it is not necessary that a soldier be in the smoke and din of 
battle. His duty begins not there, but with enlistment. Were he to neg- 
lect his early training — his after heroism will be at best atonement for a 
fault committed. Besides, he may never be sent to France, and then his 
dreams are crushed. Even should he be sent — to accomplish anything it 
will require a utilization of every moment of his training, especially if he 
be an officer, as many of our boys will be. To die for one's country were 
glorious indeed, yet it is only a part of that higher obligation we owe her — 
which knows not time or place — our duty. To give your life may be but 
the effort of a moment — but to give both life and labor — and that to the 
full, means years — and is more lasting and heroic. Our word to our boys 
is, then, "Over the top — not once or twice, or a dozen times, but ALWAYS 

—even OVER HERE." 



Spring Hill cannot claim to be especially favored in having a com- 
mandant, for many other colleges share that privilege — but she may and 
does deem herself fortunate in possessing such a one as Lieut. Lyle K. 
Braund. Arriving here on September 18, as the college entered upon the 
eighty-ninth year of her course, he took upon himself the arduous duty of 
placing her upon a military basis. Report would have fixed an indefinite 
period for such an undertaking. But the very next day after his arrival 
there was a change in the order; things immediately took on a martial 
turn, and before the end of the week the transformation was so complete 
that the Government inspecting officer pronounced the college as far ad- 
vanced in its military program as any in the country. We knew then that 
the destinies of Spring Hill were in capable hands. After events have con- 
firmed our opinion. Lieutenant Braund was a member of the Second Offi- 
cers' Training Camp at Fort Harrison, Indiana. He was later in the Offi- 
cers' School of the line at Camp Sherman, Ohio, and completed his training 
at Camp Buell and in the University of Kentucky training detachment, 


Lexington. His career has been one of success, and excites admiration. But 
his character is still more attractive. If a man of action, he is also one of 
tact, as we of the S. A. T. C. will bear witness, and has won command not 

only over our wills, but also our affections. S. A. T. C. 



There is a picture in the National Gallery, London, which has attained 
celebrity these years. It represents a group of soldiers passing a wayside 
shrine. The shrine is similar to those French ones — Notre Dame de Bre- 
bieres and others we read about, and the uniforms of the soldiers are stained 
with battle dust. As the ranks filed past the niched figures, the command- 
ing officer had given the order, "Eyes Right !" The eyes of the company 
have turned toward the enshrined image, and in the heated faces of the 
soldiers one can almost read an expression of devotion. Underneath the 
canvas is written "Eyes, Right!" 

Many of our Spring Hill boys will be moved to scenes far different 
from those they have been accustomed to here. As they pass to camp or 
battlefield — the ideals and traditions of Spring Hill are enshrined above 
them. Our command to them is "Eyes, Right!" Let them keep the old 
S. H. C. spirit ever before their vision. Their forbears-in-arms have done 
so — to judge from their letters. Why not they ? 

There are numerous letters from our Alumni. Some of them are writ- 
ten in dismal dugouts after the day's battle ; others come from far behind 
the lines, but all have the same recurrent tone of loyalty to the ideals that 
have been set before them. They have served to ennoble the trend of their 
lives. What a pity were we to lose afterward that spirit which they now 
treasure ! To secure its conservation in after days, our old boys here should 
cultivate it now. There is a danger of it being numbed owing to the influx 
of newcomers from other schools. 

By calling in the New World to redress the balance of the Old, Europe 
has unwittingly learned a lesson. It is this : America, in spite of her mate- 
rial wealth, is a nation of ideals. We would wish our Spring Hill boys to 
perform their share in the imparting of this lesson. It* is only by keeping 
"Eyes, Right!" on the traditions and ideals of our college that they can 
do so. 


From the Firing Line 


On Active Service, American A. E. F., July 19, 1918 

Dear : I received a letter from you about two weeks ago, but did 

not have a chance to answer till now, so just because you do not hear from me often, 
don't discontinue your writing, as I like to hear what is going on among the fellows. 

Talk about firework celebrations ! Well, none of them have anything on the fire- 
works we have here every night with the cannon and the star-shells. 

A big battleplane was brought down pretty close to us the other day, and we went 
up to take a look at it, and take it from me, it was some aeroplane; she had about forty 
or fifty bullet holes in it. I thought I would take a little walk up there and get a sou- 
venir, but when I got about twenty-five yards from it, "Jerry" dropped a six-incher 
about a hundred yards from me, and, therefore, I got no souvenir from the battleplane, 
as I ran back to shelter. When something like that used to happen, we didn't use to 
run for a hole — we used to stay there and watch the fun, but since our "baptism of 
fire," we hunt a hole and stay low. 

We had a nice miserable time the other night, when the Boche sent his bombard- 
ment over. He made me wear a gas mask for seven hours, and when I was suffocating 
in that thing, I swore that he would pay for that, and if one would have stuck his head 
around then, I believe I would have tortured him for hours. I was almost despairing, 
because I thought it was a case of suffocate or die from gas, but I kept on, and got 
through alright, except getting a little bit of gas, and that was only a little bit of 
trouble the next day. He put over four different kinds of gas, two of them being 
deadly, and the shrapnel was flying worse than hell. The bombardment lasted for ten 
hours, and during that time the Germans crossed the Marne, and then they were flanked 
and a number of German prisoners were taken. 

Dpring the bombardment, I was in a shack, and a six-incher came over and leveled 
one-half of it, while the end that I was in stood fast; another came and landed a couple 
of feet in front of the house. A piece of shrapnel from it flew in through the window 
and stuck in the wall above my head. I would have gotten out of the house, but I was 
cornered. I couldn't move. I tried twice to get out, but when I got to the door each 
time a shell would burst in the vicinity, and back I would go, but if I had gotten out 
and gone back to the trenches, where I had been sleeping, I would have been chop suey, 
as a direct hit was made on my bed, so you see the Good Lord, and nothing else, is what 
saved me. _ ) ■ ^>#r*$p*$j! 

Jack said there was no gas in the place about one o'clock that night, and took off 
his mask, but he had not gotten it off good when he vomited three times, so he changed 
his mind and put his mask back on. 

It is worse than Bedlam here at night with the famous "75's" giving 'em hell! 


Most of our brigade has gone "over the top" by now, and have won fame. We have 

not been to the front lines as yet, but expect to very soon, as we are in the 

line now, and have been for some time. 

There is heavy fighting going on in this section now, and a fellow told me that 
the Marne ran blood again, as it did in 1914. 

Tell all hello for me, and write soon. 

How does everybody like the ordnance men that are now at Gamp Hancock ? 

Write soon. Your friend, 


A A A A A 


Somewhere in France, August 14, 1918 

My Dear Mother: I have not written to you for quite a while, because I did not 
want to worry you by writing while I was in the front lines, but now we are back a lit- 
tle distance, and I thought I would send you another letter. 

We were on the front line, in a very active place, and, believe me, I have had 
enough of the front line, especially when I took a little walk through the German lines, 
but, unfortunately, I was ignorant of the fact, and the most peculiar thing about it is 
that only one shot was fired at me While I was there, and it went right between my legs. 

I pray every night, thanking God that He spared me while I was there. Snipers 
took about forty or fifty shots at me, but they must have had a pretty bad eye, because 
they didn't get me, and while sniping, one Hun went to the credit side of my book. 

I was hit three times by shrapnel, but, luckily, the force had been spent, and they 
only scared me. 

The other day a man from the infantry and I were side by side; a shell struck, and 
he fell dead at my feet, and that little incident unnerved me for a couple of hours, but 
that was all. 

The Germans made a raid on our lines the other morning, and brought some potato 
mashers (hand grenades) with them, but we held them off from behind buildings, etc., 
and they didn't get a chance to use them. I remember one Dutchman ran across the 
street about twenty-five yards in front of me with a whole bucketful of them. I took 
a crack at him, but he was running, and my shot went to waste. 

Well, I am out of that nightmare now, so let's forget about it and talk about some- 
thing more cheerful. This war cannot end quickly enough for me, and teli those fellows 
who are anxious to arrive "over here" to shut up and stay in the old U. S. as long as 
they possibly can, for this war is no joke, it is WAR, and nobody realizes it more than 
Private Herbert C. Gray. 

Whenever you hear people kick about war eats, tell them to shut up, for at times 
(lately) we would have run for a crust of dry bread and fought to see who would get it. 
Some of the infantrymen went for four days on three crackers. We were not quite so 
bad as that. 

By the way, I had a German to holler "Kamerad" at me the other day. He was 
wounded, but his confederates were taking a shot at me every couple of minutes, so I 
could not move him. 

I found a German saw bayonet the other day in the lines, and if that didn't make 
me hot. I now believe they are capable of any cruelty, whereas for a time I didn't be- 
lieve all I heard, but that settled me. 

The Germans are no good at hand-to-hand fighting. They shout "Kamerad" when 


it comes man to man. What they are good at is sniping, throwing potato mashers and 
the like. 

The wounded German I was telling you about said that he was a Prussian, and he 
informed me of something which I never knew before. He said that we were English- 
men dressed in the American uniform. Can you beat that? 

Here's to the hope that we will keep the Huns on the move and end the war soon. 

Tell Papa that our talks on the porch are good for a year after I get back. I have 
so much to tell him. With lots of love to all, and especially to you, 

Your son, HERBERT C. GRAY 

Cited for Bravery 

To this letter is appended a postscript by Lieutenant McNeal: 
My Dear Mrs. Gray — Having had command of the detachment, I can vouch for all 
Herbert tells in this letter, and "then some." He crossed a bridge to me under machine 
gun fire, and I have recommended him for "Special Mention in Orders." Wish I had many 
more like him and young Mulherin. 

Sincerely, H. G. McNEAL, 2nd Lieut. 

A A A A A 


A. E. F„ July 31, 1918 

Dear Father: I received your telegram yesterday afternoon, but did not exactly 
see how I could answer it, as we are out in the wilderness so far as business is con- 
cerned. Of course, there are towns about (or I should say, the bricks and mortar of 
what used to be towns, but now are only relics that show a town used to stand there). 

The Germans are now retreating pretty fast, and in the trail of their retreat they 
leave most everything they owned, rifles, clothes, equipment, hospital supplies and 
various other things, with thousands of shells and hundreds of thousands rounds of 
rifle ammunition, and in fact some left themselves, or at least their earthly remains, 
and some unfortunately leave themselves in the vicinity — whether accidentally or on 
purpose, I don't know. 

We have some pretty badly weather-beaten German bodies that have laid in the 
fields for four or five days in the sun, and if that isn't an awful looking sight. They 
are as black as the ace of spades, but I saw one German that must have been killed the 
day before, because he was not in the least disfigured, and he certainly was a husky 
lad, only about sixteen or seventeen years old. 

Most of the Germans that are captured and brought back of the lines seem to be 
elated at the state of affairs, as one said as he passed yesterday on the road, "Now, we 
are through with the war." A good many can speak English. 

The German helmet is not as I thought, round with a spike on the top; it is round, 
and comes down over the ears, but has no spike; it is a clumsy looking affair. 

The country is full of German graveyards, and the "Iron Cross" men have a dec- 
orated cross with flowers on the grave. Some class to that! 

Every now end then a fleet of Fritzie airplanes sail into "forbidden" territory, and 
they certainly do receive a warm reception. A "Froggy" brought down one the other 
day, and if that wasn't a pretty sight "to be looking on from the earth, but not to him, 
I suppose." He wheeled around and put the nose of his plane downward, and gravity 
did the rest. You should hear the "75's" bat 'em out." The Germans call them machine 


gun cannons, but the "75's" have nothing on the six-inchers, especially when Jerry tries 
to annoy us with them. The way the fellows rate the Hun shells is this way — there is 
nothing good enough to be called bad, shells are worse; gas worse, and shrapnel is hail — 
if there is anything that will make a fellow run for a dugout, it is shrapnel. Oh! you 
can hear shells coming all night; you can hear them miles away. First she starts with 
a buzz, and it slowly turns into a sharp whistle, then an explosion, then the shrapnel 
whizzing, and that is the most sickening sound of all. 

Tell the folks that I saw Donegy, of the Engineers, yesterday, and he said that he 
had received quite a few letters from different people, but nobody seemed to have re- 
ceived one from him yet. 

Quite a while ago I sent a pair of wooden shoes as a souvenir of France. That was 
another case like the picture — before I got a chance to see that they were sent, we pulled 
out, and th,e maker could do as he pleased — send them or not send them. It will be of 
no material good to know if you got them, but I would like to know, anyway. 

I receive the Chronicle about twice a week, and when there is nothing to do, it is 
a pretty good time "shover." 

The Germans sent eight or nine shells over the other day, and in return for his 
challenge, he received very near fifteen hundred, which beat the old proverb "an eye 
for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" to a frazzle, I think. 

When the Allies do get the Huns on their own territory, they should tear every 
building in Germany to the ground for revenge for what they have done to the war- 
ridden country villages and towns, in some cases with not a stone upon a stone, as the 
saying goes, and in the houses that were lucky enough not to be hit they have looted 
everything that has any value in the least. 

We are in the finest condition, and hope all of you are the same. 

Write soon. Affectionately, your son, 


k k k X k 


A. E. F., August 29, 1918 
The Springhillian, Mobile, Ala.: 

Dear Sirs — Received a copy of the magazine the other day, having been forwarded 
from Washington, D. C., which reminded me that I had not notified you of my change 
in address. | >v '^^Wfrn^f^mi. 

We have been in France nine months, having landed on November 26, being among 
the first 100,000 over here. So consider ourselves kind of pioneers. Cannot say I like 
this country, and only hope the war will end soon, so we can get back to the good U. S. A. 
The way things are going now our prospects are very favorable. 

Trusting this finds the college as prosperous as ever, I remain, 

Yours sincerely, SGT. R. K. ROUNDS, 171730, 

30th Co., 20th Engrs., American E. F. 

k k k k k 


Somewhere in France, September 13, 1918 
Dear Father — Memories, sweet cherished memories, flash over my mind this rest- 
ful hour. A decade and four years have come and gone since the sacred walls of dear 


old Spring Hill have carefully guarded and housed me. It was there where gentle in- 
fluences guarded and directed my youthful ambitions. 

It is passing strange, mayhap, that at this period my thoughts should revert back 
to those happier days, yet it should be stranger still, since so favored, to forget the debt 
of gratitude to those who pointed out the paths where man might travel in safety to 
the home of his destiny. 

This is previous to the subject on hand. For me in this writing, it is a lull in battle. 
How well do I recall the teachings — how vividly do I see Father DePotter in his kind, 
generous and convincing way, proclaiming these great truths to the class of 1903, and 
further assisting me in 1904, during my post-graduate course. 

Now it is, that I can the more fully realize my advantage of such a training, and 
this message I would hand down to those who, like me, will seek knowledge within the 
classic walls of my alma mater. 

We started a drive yesterday, which, to my conception, is the beginning of the end. 
We have the enemy on the run, and we are after him. And so it is during this period 
of rest, the happy recollections of college days come back to me, and I must need send 
you greetings and tell you, in part, what is going on. 

I have been shot at, shelled and gassed so frequently as to cause an absolute indif- 
ference to all fear thereof, and possess no unpleasant sensation. Never have I wit- 
nessed or observed the equal. 

Every American is on the job, and we have more than gained out objective to date, 
and still advancing. The spirit of the boys is wonderful under these trying conditions, 
trying due to the preliminary movements of preparation. For instance, in all my read- 
ings, or when we speak of France, it is customary to affix the adjective "Sunny" — nay, 
not so again! For the past week it has been raining, and without explanation you can 
imagine the surroundings after Jupiter Pluvius has forged his company on us for that 
length of time. 

The order of the day, or night, as you will, have been long road marches under the 
most exasperating conditions, billeting in a dripping woods, shivering cold, with sleep a 
secondary consideration, and all such pleasantries. The mud, without exaggeration, is a 
foot deep, and it is of the confectionery kind. As a rule, our clothing we wear is like 
the weather. v '~ W^^^W^mm 

You have no idea what the men are going through. Everything the weather can 
add to our discomfort, it aggravatingly multiplies our inconvenience. Yet the men are 
pushing forward with an irresistible spirit, which will sooner end this struggle. 

We are moving on, thousands of guns, hundreds of tanks, doughboys and artille- 
ries galore, machine guns unaccountable, trucks, ammunition trains miles long, aero- 
planes innumerable controlling the air, supplies coming up, all making up a sight won- 
derful to behold. The noise, din and excitement is above the imaginable. The roads 
are also congested with prisoners going to the rear. One could hardly believe that all 
this could happen in so short space of time. 

Enough of this: let me come to the closing — evidence of a movement is on hand, 
yet will I give a parting message, most important to you, dear Father, and equally so 
for the coming men of our nation now under your care, that with you they might preach 
and use whatever influence they might or will possess to make more glorious our 

I deplore the absence of Catholic Priests among us. Say what you will, I have not 
seen a Catholic Priest on the field, or heard of one, wherever I have been, and let me 
add I have been in many places. I insist our men need the presence and influence of our 


Priests, since the religion of hate is deeply stamped among our men. Like one in the 
wilderness, I call for help. My message is given. 


1st Lieut. 19th F. A. 

A A A A A 


American Ex. Forces, France, August 11, 1918 
Dear Father: In the first issue of The Springhillian, will you wish the Class of 
1918 the 'best of luck for me ? I wish I had been with them on graduation day. 

I have been over here about a month now, and have traveled about half of the time 
through a good part of England and France. I have been in about six different camps, 
and have not run upon one of the old boys yet, but I would not be a bit surprised to see 
old "Big George" or some of the other boys any time. I wish I could see him or some 
of the others. 

The French have a beautiful country over here, but of course it is nothing like it 
would be in peace times. I would love to see this country after everything is over. This 
is quite a nice town, there is a beautiful Cathedral here. It is considered the most beau- 
tiful since the one at Rheims was ruined. I have not had a chance to see it yet, but I 
am going to. We have mass here every Sunday at the Y. M. C. A. 
I must close. Wishing you the best of luck for the coming year, 
I remain, Yours truly, 

Co. E, 116 Engrs, A. P. 0733, A. E. F., France 

A A A A A 

From the Camps 

West Point, July 3, 1918 

Dear Father: At last I have found time to write you. Your efforts have placed 
me in the greatest and most disciplinary school I have ever attended. 

At present we are drilling eight hours per day, and when our class is efficient in all 
company and squad drills, we go over to camp, which is only a short distance from the 
barracks we are now occupying. 

The upper classmen are very hard on us, and in order to make good here, one must 
do his very best in all cases, such as drill, keeping room clean and dressing neatly. 

My daily routine starts at 5 A. M. I have to shave each morning when I get up, 
then make up my bed, sweep out my room, and fall in line at five-thirty. 

Dinner takes place at 12:30, and drill at 2 P. M. Every afternoon a dress parade is 
held, and you should see me in my dress uniform! I know you would not recognize me. 

Saw John Guiteras the first day I came here, but as he is in a smaller company, I 
hardly ever get to see him. He asked of you and all the faculty at dear Spring Hill, and 
as I was in a position to tell him the news, he listened with much enthusiasm. I know 
he will make good, for I can bank on any man making good anywhere who has attended 
a Jesuit College. 

There are seven men out of nine who live on the same floor with me who have come 
here out of Jesuit Colleges. They are all fine looking men. If you have never been 
here, I'm sure you would enjoy your visit to the utmost. The river is on one side, and 


mountains on the other. The campus is beautiful, but I don't think it has much on the 
campus at Spring Hill. 

Was discharged from the army when I came here, and had to take another oath of 
enlistment for eight years in service. Well, I guess the war will be over when I get 
my diploma, which will be three years from now, but I would like to go over and do my 
share of fighting. 

Do you ever hear anything from Ratterman? I have written him several letters, 
but have not heard a word. Hope he is getting along fine. 

Tomorrow being the Fourth of July, I suppose there will be some "big dog," as we 
call them, up here to review our cadets. 

The drum is beating for drill, so I must close for this time. If you ever have the 
spare time to write to one of your many friends, it would be highly appreciated. 

Hoping you are enjoying the best of health, and that all are well at the college, and 
hoping to hear from you real soon ,1 am as ever, 

Your friend, 


P. S. — Lessons begin in September, and then I'm going to show these people how 
to make some good grades. 

x x x x x 

West Point 

Dear Father: Your most welcome letter came, and also the letter from Lieutenant 
Ratterman, and was so glad to hear from you and "Rat." Sometimes I wish I was with 
"Rat" in France, but when I finish my career here I will be better fitted to serve my 
country. '• J ! 

Nothing new has happened since I wrote you last, except we are now in camp, and 
are working hard all the time trying to keep our tents and equipment clean. 

Yesterday we had an awful stiff inspection, but I happened to get by it and was not 
"stuck." Have to go on guard tonight, and as I came here from the army, the upper 
classmen think they can run across my post any time they want to, but I have had a 
little experience on guard duty, and I am sure they will be surprised when they find 
out I am not to be run over. Have not seen John Guiteras since coming to camp, as he 
is in another company. As soon as I am allowed to visit, I am going over to see him 
and give him your best. Who were the men from Spring Hill who went to Fort Sheri- 
dan ? After Xmas I will do my best to write something of interest to you. Have not 
seen enough of this place to describe it to anyone, and especially the names of all the 
historical buildings and landmarks. 

Am enclosing the letter from Lieutenant "Rat," and must say I surely do appre- 
ciate you sending it to me. Must close now and dress for dinner. Please remember me 
to all the faculty ,and hoping to hear from you soon, 
I am as ever, your friend, 


X X X X X 

Fort Sheridan, 111., August 2, 1918 
Dear Father: At last I have found time to sit down quietly and write you a few 
lines. But I must add that it won't be volumes, because I am still at camp, I'm still 
a soldier, and no one can tell at camp when the next call will be sounded. 

The situation at the camp is ideal; we are right on Lake Michigan, and Lake Forest 
is our next door neighbor, so you can imagine how beautiful it is. 


I won't waste much time on the scenery. Will pass over that and talk about the 
work. And it certainly is work in the full sense of the word. I thought I was doing 
real work in the beginning of the summer, but I did not know the real definition of the 
word until I landed out here. 

We have drill formations, study formations, and more drill formations, but it's 
wonderful work and training. 

And discipline is another word I thought I knew how to spell, but upon my arrival 
they showed me how to spell it, and, besides, gave me the definition. But it all goes to 
make up a great army, a fighting machine to win this war and bring back world-wide 
peace once more. 

I am separated from the other Spring Hill boys. They are in Company 5. I see 
them occasionally during the week, and every Sunday at Mass. All are doing fine, and 
in the best of spirits and health. 

Will close, as I hear the call to quarters. Very respectfully, 


A A A A A 

Fort Sheridan, 111., Monday, August 26, 1918 

Dear Rev. Father: Suppose you will be surprised to receive a letter from this 
"dead man," who has come to life at last. 

Please pardon my neglectfulness for not letting you hear from me sooner, but was 
expecting to see you last week; and indeed am sorry you were not able to make the trip. 
I was very glad to see Fathers Kearns and Wallace. 

Just two weeks more and camp will break up. These past six weeks have been 
anything but a vacation. However, I'm awfully glad I had the opportunity of coming 
here, and assure you I will do all in my power to place old Spring Hill to that point as 
a military institution in which it ranks with all Southern colleges in other branches — 
the highest. 

I think the "bunch" has been doing exceedingly well, and that the officers are 
pleased with our progress. We who had no previous military training are today just 
as well, if not better, versed in the science than boys who attended the best military 
schools in the country. 

The past two weeks we have devoted most of our time to instructions on the bay- 
onet and hand grenades. It is very interesting work, especially the bayonet, which will 
be one of the main factors in our becoming victorious overseas. 

Week before last we were on the range for three days. I surprised myself a little. 
It was the first time I fired a rifle in my young life, and scored forty-three points out 
of a possible fifty. This is not poor shooting for an experienced rifleman. We had to 
shoot from all positions and distances, in the trenches, etc. We each fired about three 
hundred shots, which makes us a little more familiar with the rifle than we used to be. 

I can now appreciate the strict discipline which I often grumbled about at college. 
I realize the good training I received has helped me in more than one way in fulfilling 
the duties placed upon me. 

I will have to close, as my time is ilmited. I will be more than glad to hear from 
you any time an opportunity may present itself to you for writing. 

Please remember me to all the faculty, and especially to Fathers Macdonnell, Navin 
and Cronin. Very gratefully yours, J. L. K. 


New Orleans, La., September 28, 1918 
Dear Father : Thought I would drop you a few lines before I left town. I am leav- 
ing tonight for the University of Kansas to act as instructor for an indefinite period 
of time. Would give anything if I could go back to old Spring Hill for one more year, 

I still consider myself A.B. '19, and only wish I could be there to get my dip. 
Tell the team, my team I call it, I wish them all the success in the world for the 
coming year. Yours respectfully, 

DENIS A. CURREN, 2nd Lieut. 

A A A A A 

Camp Meade, Md., September 18, 1918 

Dear Father: Your card just reached me, and you cannot imagine the happiness it 
gave me. However, it did not bring my thoughts back to Spring Hill, for they had not 
wandered away; but it did assure me that I had not been forgotten by my Alma Mater 
nor those associated with it. 

Yesterday I received a card from "Babe" Taylor, in Southern France. I did not get 
to see him when he left. 

I expect to leave the hospital at the end of the week. I came in with an ingrowing 
nail in one "great" toe, and the doctor said he would fix both so they would never bother 
me again. Accordingly, diminished the size of my too "great" toe, which may be more 
convenient, though the process was not any too agreeable. 

I was with the depot brigade, which always consists of "rookies," but my company 
has been scattered, and I do not know what location I will meet with when discharged 
from here. I have made application for the intelligence corps, which was recommended 
by the corporal filling out our "blanks." 

I was almost classed as a deserter. For eight days I had been here nursing my 
butchered pedals, when in walked my sister. She had located in Washington, and had 
phoned about me not receiving word, and my company reported me as missing without 
leave for eight days. I was eventually located, and the error corrected. 

I shall enclose a picture in my next letter, in all probability to let you see what I 
look like in "Pershing paraphernalia," as a friend termed it. 

I sincerely trust that you will remember me in your prayers. And I hope that I 
will be able to reach the standard my alma mater has displayed in our world war. Please 
remember me to all the faculty — my former professors individually and collective, if it 
is not too much a burden, and extend my good wishes to the boys. Oh, yes! "Doc" 
Rush may be included in the "faculty" or "boys" or both, according as your and his 
opinion decide. I trust that I may hear from you presently. 

With kindest regards and sincerest best wishes for a prosperous, patriotic year 
and years, I am, Very truly, your friend, 


A A A A A 

With the Navy 

U. S. S. Wanderlust, Brunswick, Ga., July 23, 1918 
Dear Father: I received your letter a few days ago, but I have been so busy that I 
have not had time to answer it promptly. 


No doubt you will miss Ed and Luke. I miss them myself, and all the boys, and 
Spring Hill. 1 was grumbling while I was there, but I certainly wish I was back once 
more, and I want to thank you for helping me then and now. 

The navy life is fine. I think I am going to like it very much, but only for the 
duration of the war. 

Fred S. Hughes our old Gulfport friend, was here working for the picric acid plant, 
but left for New Orleans to join the naval reserves. He sends his best regards to all. 

I am glad to see that Spring Hill has been made an Officers' Training Camp. That 
will certainly be fine! If I can, I'll send some boys down. 

I wrote Tom Hails a letter about two weeks ago, but I have not had an answer yet. 
Tom, Ed and Luke are the best fellows I ever met; in fact, every one at Spring Hill was 
above the average man in every way. Gosh! but it feels good to meet someone from 
dear old Spring Hill! I see a great number of Auburnites, and, mind you, they know 
where and what Spring Hill is. 

Well, Father, I must close, for it is about time for "chow" (dinner). Give my re- 
gards to all, and pray for me. Your friend, 


A A A A A 

U. S. S. Wanderlust, Brunswick, Ga., July 8, 1918 

Dear Father: I was certainly very glad to hear from you, and many thanks for 
The Springhillian. The sight of the dear old book made my heart flutter, and brought 
back fond and pleasant memories. 

The various letters from the boys in the service was surely a compliment to both 
them and the grand old college. Every time I see something that reminds me of dear 
old Spring Hill, I get the blues. 

I was certainly glad to see, but not surprised, that Tom Hails was made editor-in- 
chief of The Springhillian. Tom is a ibright fellow, and one of my best friends. In fact, 
I just wrote him a long letter. I wish the college and The Springhillian the best of 
luck now and always. I feel like I could write a book of praise for the college, but the 
few sentences I wrote are straight from the heart. My thoughts are too wild to write 
a congrous paragraph. 

Yesterday we captured a "liquor boat" from Fernandina, Fla., bound for Savannah, 
Ga. She had about ten thousand dollars' worth of whisky and beer aboard. We took 
the boat in charge and put the crew in jail. She refused to stop at first, but after we 
fired around her a few times she came alongside. The captain said he thought he would 
recommend me for the next navigation school. This school is for the purpose of teach- 
ing navigation, and it lasts six weeks. After that time you are given an examination; if 
you pass, then you are made an officer. 

Well, I must close now, as things are gettiny noisy. 

Best regards to all. Your devoted friend, 


A A A A A 

U. S. S. Wanderlust, S. P. 923, Brunswick, Ga., June 22, 1918 
Dear Father: I have been intending to write you for some time, but have been 
procrastinating, from day to day. That seems to be one of my numerous faults. 

I am now in the naval reserve, aboard the scout patrol Wanderlust, a little eighty- 
five-foot craft, once a private yacht. I have been in the service only two months, and, 


of course, I am quite an inexperienced seaman. Not having a trade, I had to enlist as 
a second-class seaman. I was certainly surprised to find such a nice crew. There are 
two other Atlanta boys on here besides myself. One had four years at Tech, and he 
is a pretty bright fellow, but he knows a little too much. 

I have been brushing up on my trigonometry. I am studying every chance I get 
for an ensign's commission. One has to be in the service six months before competing 
for such a commission. I also understand there is a navigation school open to enlisted 
men, provided they are recommended by their captain. We do not have very much time 
to study, not that there is much work to do, but there is so much singing, talking, etc., 
going on. We have what the vulgar crowd might term as a "cinch." I saw in The 
Springhillian where Eddie Crowell was made an ensign. I hope that Spring Hill will 
turn out more of such men. Speaking of Spring Hill, I could truly say that I wish that 
I could spend my four years over. One never realizes what are advantages until it is 
too late. Right now I want to thank you and the faculty for what was done for me 
during my four enjoyable years, and I am sorry that I did not apply myself as I should 
have done, but it is too late now. 

Ed O'Dowd is at Camp Gordon. I received a card from Ratterman, may God bless 
him! I would surely like to know how many out of our class is in the service. 

Well, Father ,1 am on duty at 12 o'clock tonight, so I must turn in and get some 
sleep. Give my regards to all, and pray for me, especially that I may get a commission. 

Respectfully yours, C. J. SULLIVAN 

With Our Chaplains 

Camp Logan, Texas, August 19, 1918 
Reverend and Dear Father: Many thanks for your two letters and the literature about 
military training. 

Three weeks ago I had only forty boys at mass. Yesterday I had over three hun- 
dred, and next Sunday I shall have to say Mass in the open air. Most of these boys are 
from the country parishes of Louisiana, and they all speak French much better than 
English. I have one boy — in hospital with typhoid — dangerously sick, and his father, 
mother and wife are here being cared for by the Red Cross. I have been with them a 
week now, and so far have not spoken one word of English. Yesterday after Mass a 
boy came up to me and introduced himself. I cannot remember his name, but he was 
from St. John's College, Shreveport. 

The next one I met was from Minneapolis, and immediately after him came a boy 
who has only been a Catholic for five weeks, and who wished to be enrolled in the Scap- 
ular and to be taught how to say the beads. This one came from Rochester. The boy 
who served by Masses (both of them) knew Larry Kirn and E. Groetsch very well. 

It is wonderful variety which makes things so interesting, and then they are so 
grateful for the least thing you do for them, and they are so easily pleased. 

There seems to be something unpleasant in the order from the War Department — 
telling camp pastors (whatever that means) that they must wind up their activities 
within the next three months. In Camp Pike and San Antonio I understand the K. C. 
Chaplains have been told to get ready to terminate their usefulness, but so far not one 
word has been said to me. 

If you come to Houston, I will take you out to camp. 

With kindest regards to all, and with best wishes for a good opening, I am, 

Yours truly, A. DOUGHERTY, S.J. 


July 18 Eight students of the College arrive at Fort Sheridan, 111., for in- 
tensive training in the R. 0. T. C. 
Aug. 24 Spring Hill College accepted by the Government as a unit of the 
Student Army Training Corps. 
Matriculation of new students ; 347 enrolled. 
Registration of the members of the S. A. T. C. 
Schola Brevis. Football practice begins under Dr. Rush. 
Football season opens in the Junior Division. 
Mass of the Holy Ghost. Rev. Fr. President delivers sermon. 
Commandant for the S. A. T. C. arrives. 
Drilling begins. Bugle replaces bell. Reveille at 6 a. m., and 

taps at 10 p. m. 
Periods of military training lengthened and intensified. 
Order of High School changes. Half day. 
Full day for S. A. T. C. Half day for High School. 
Government inspector arrives. 
Drill practice for High School begins. 
Police duty instituted. 
Gulf Coast game called off. 
Classes resumed in the High School Division. 
First big hike for S. A. T. C. 

Classes for S. A. T. C. reopen. Military formation in refectory. 
Formation of Junior Division superintended by M. Rice. 
War Aims Course instituted. New Mess Hall opens. 
Personnel Adjutant arrives. 

Assistant Regional Director of Academic Work of S. A. T. C. 
visits College. 
Oct. 26 First big hike for High School. Inspection by Commandant. 



Sept 12 















Sept. 28 

Sept. 29 





















Alumni Notes 

When the war broke out in 1914, we knew of but one S. H. C. alumnus 
on the battle line^Captain W. Rowbothan, LL.D., who, owing to his dis- 
tinguished services in the Boer War, was gazetted as a captain in the 
Eighth Welch Regiment. Today our warriors are to be numbered by the 
hundreds, and if we include the newly-registered S. A. T. C, we have over 
half a thousand in the service, with some two hundred more engaged in 
preparation. Of those in active service, many have signalized themselves, 
while some have paid the supreme price. 


If with pride, it was not without sorrow that we viewed the addition 
of a gold star to our Service Flag on July 29, for the victim was none other 
than Chris. Timothy — an old editor-in-chief of The Springhillian and of uni- 
versal fame both on the gridiron and in the classroom. While at school, 
he made an enduring name for himself in every department of college ac- 
tivities. His facility with the pen, manifested in his numerous contribu- 
tions to our magazine, was equaled by his proficiency in elocution — while 
both were unsurpassed by his all-around skill in athletics. All this, added 
to his gentlemanly spirit of politeness, made him popular alike with faculty 
and boys. Nor was it otherwise in France. Major Yates, who attended 
him during sickness, bears testimony to the "love and respect which his 
men had for him." A young man of sterling worth, he made friends eas- 
ily, and kept them. After leaving Spring Hill in 1914, he attended the 
Chattanooga Law School, and later went into the office of Littleton & Lit- 
tleton. When the call for young men came, Timothy was one of the first 
to volunteer for the reserve Officers' Training Camp. Commissioned as 
second lieutenant, he sailed for France with the Rainbow Division. His ex- 
periences "over there" are best described by himself in a letter, which we 
gladly quote in full : 

France, March 29, 1918 "~~* 

Dear Friend : Needless to say, I was delighted to hear from you. Have 
just returned from the front, and if you noticed the papers, you probably 
saw recorded the first "over the top" success of American troops. I was 
lucky enough to be among the aforementioned. 

I have been over here since September, spent a couple of months in 
school here, and have been with the 168th Infantry of the 42nd (Rainbow 
Division) since December. 

We have seen quite a bit of active service, and have suffered according- 


ly in the casualty line. I have served two hitches in the front, and the last 
time I was up with my platoon we caught some rough going. We were de- 
fending a strong point on March 22, when the Germans started the offen- 
sive, which is now raging. It's great to be here, and I wouldn't take any- 
thing for my experience and the distinction of not only belonging to the 
First Army Corps, but heing among the first troops "over the top." But, 
believe me, this heavy artillery stuff is h — 1 without a capital. Each time I 
have been up for a hitch, the artillery seems to have been active. I've had 
a couple of men shell-shocked, and it's awful. However, things are unus- 
ually active on account of the offensive, but it is my opinion that if the 
English break this German attempt, the rest of you boys will never see 
this side. The artillery being used is inconceivable, and Sherman's plati- 
tude, "War is hell," in the present vernacular, should be "War is H. E. (high 
explosive) ." We are acting as reserve now, and it is giving us an opportun- 
ity for rest. We are in readiness to be called at any moment, so the next 
time you hear from me, or by the time you receive this, the Americans here 
may have been a small factor in stopping the onrush of the Boche. 

It's great to be up there with your men, and it brings back memories 
of the old grid days and your blood gets hot, but even more than when we 
used to meet Marion. The stakes are greater, and once when the Boche 
pulled a raid on us, I found a few tears trickling down my cheeks. You 
remember what a great mule I used to make of myself in football ? Well, I 
have not outgrown that yet. However, it's a great war, and when the 
"Boche est fini," and if you don't happen to get across then, I'm going to 
come down and see you, and we can talk over the old and new times to- 

I was forced to water my ink, and pardon the scribble, as my time is 
limited. However, this will suffice to let you know that I appreciated your 
letter, and hope you'll repeat often. Do it now ! Best luck and best health 
is the sincerest wish of, Your old pal, 

2nd Lieut. 168th Inf., 42nd Div., A. E. F. 

After 117 days of trench service in the Toul sector, the 168th was 
moved up towards Rheims, and following a ten-days' rest was put into the 
battle of July 14th and 15th. His last letter, dated July 21, and evidently 
written during a brief respite after five days of fighting, was a cheerful 
and interesting one, and made no mention of the horrors and dangers he 
was enduring. On the day that they carried the town of Sergy he wa$ 
wounded. For details we are at a loss. His sister writes: "In reply to 
your request for the details of his death, I regret that we have only the 


adjutant's telegram, announcing his death on July 28, from wounds received 
in action, and a letter from the doctor in whose care he died." 

The latter writes: "Lieutenant Timothy was brought to a hospital, 
after being fatally wounded, and died in my care. Two facts should be of 
comfort to you : first, that he died fighting the good fight ; second, that his 
injury was so severe as to make recovery impossible, sufficed to make his 
distress virtually nil.. I never saw your boy when he was conscious, but 
had heard much since of his character and worth." 

A A A A A 


According to a telegram received August 8, Lieutenant George H. Rat- 
terman, aviator on active service in France, is reported missing behind the 
German lines in France. The lieutenant was on signal service when his 
machine went to earth in an accident. 

"Rats," as he was best known to his Mobile friends, will best be re- 
membered as Spring Hill's star center. He was for four years a member 
of the Hill Varsity, and acknowledged as the Southland's best center by all 
football authorities. Football fans will call to mind how his marvelous 
playing baffled his opponents and scattered his antagonists to the four 
winds. Ratterman has been a star athlete since his childhood. Strong, 
quick and daring, he often made the spectators hold their breath while he 
went through stunts in the gym: 

The last letter of Lieutenant Ratterman to Spring Hill College, dated 
June 15, follows: "Just a few lines to let you know what I was doing on 
commencement day. Taking into consideration the difference in times 
while the medals were being distributed, I was handing out bombs to a 
certain German city, and it was a grand success. I know that those that 
deserve them got them, and a certain objective in said German city re- 
ceived its share of bombs. We hit the nail on the head. We received great 
and continued applause from the 'Archie' — anti-aircraft guns." 

According to a telegram received through the International Red Cross, 
and sent from Geneva, Switzerland, he was found to be a prisoner at Camp 
Friedrichsfeste Rastatt Baden, Germany. He had been removed from 
Karlshrue, and has since been taken to Landshut, on the Austrian border. 

As The Springhillian goes to press, we are in receipt of a letter from Lieutenant 
George Ratterman, U. S. Aviator, now a German prisoner. We reproduce, viz: 

Landshut, Bavaria, August 10, 1918 

Dear Father: Well, the most unexpected thing has happened, and I am now a 
prisoner of war in Germany. Such is life! And I never thought for one moment that 
this would be my little bit in the war. 


I was forced to land near Coblenz while on a bombing raid (daylight), but I landed 
at ten-forty-five, and the only object I could see was the Mossel River. During the 
first three days of my capture I had quite a few experiences which I never will forget. 
Since that time I have been getting on very well, and am now in a permanent camp 
(name delected by censor). We always wonder if the next addition will be some one 
we know, but the Americans seem to be very rare articles in Germany at present. 

Any news you can send us would certainly be received with open arms. Give my 
best regards to all the faculty and the boys. 

Your devoted friend, 


First Lieut. A. S. Sig. R. C. 

k k k k k 


Unconscious from a bullet wound in the head, and dropping more than 
two miles in, giddy flight in a run-away airplane with a dead observer in the 
seat behind him was the experience ("little incident," he termed it) of 
Lieutenant John Van Heuval, B.S. '15. 

By the barest luck, he regained consciousness and brought his machine 
safely home behind the American lines. The young aviator thus describes 
his hairbreadth escape : "The little incident of narrow escape happened to 
me on my birthday. Two airships went out at 5 a. m., and I was driving 
one of them. After getting altitude, we started on visual reconnaisance 
mission, to cover important roads and towns about twenty miles behind the 
lines. Just after we crossed the lines going over, two German planes at- 
tacked us, coming toward us from the sun. My observer was shot through 
the heart and killed instantly. Two bullets grazed my head, knocking me" 
unconscious. We fell in this predicament 13,000 feet, and when I came to, 
drove home safely and landed. I did not know that my observer was dead 
at the time, but thought he was seriously wounded, so I got out as quickly 
as I could. I felt very weak, and my head burned terribly. I expected to 
smash at any moment. 

"My roommate was killed two days previously, so you know how I was 
feeling. The funeral of St. Hirth, my observer, was held from the hos- 
pital. I was one of the pallbearers. We marched to the cemetery, and 
while prayers were being said, our planes flew overhead, dropping flowers 
on the grave. A firing squad fired three volleys, and the bugler at the 
end blew at half-tone. It was very sad and impressive. He was the fifth 
we've lost, but I did not tell you sooner, nor do I think I should now. 

"I will be decorated in all probability soon. Also I am to wear a wound 
stripe, which is very rare in aviation. It's generally all 0. K. or death." 

The incident has been substantiated by the testimony of the Interna- 


tional News Service Staff Correspondent, and has been cited by many of 
the American papers. 

k k X I k 



Edward O'Dowd has entered an officers' training camp. 
P. Dewey Landry is taking a radio course at St. Charles College. 
Louis O'Dowd has returned to Spring Hill, and has been enrolled in 
the S. A. T. C. 


The following members of the B. S. Class have returned to Spring Hill, 
and are enrolled in the Students' Army : John F. Cooney, Louis A. de Leon, 
Richard A. Willard. 

Charles H. Ducote is now working at the picric acid plant, Little 
Rock, Ark. 

Angelo 0. Festorazzi has entered Boston Tech. 

Huntington Howard is at the Dupont Powder Company. 

Pierre Neeley has been enrolled in the S. A. T. C. at the University of 

Raymond J. Reynaud is taking a dental course at Loyola. 

'07 As we go to press, we learn of the death of Leon Soniat, A.B. '07, 
from spinal meningitis. He had been with the colors some time, 
and saw good service in France. As details have not yet arrived, 
we defer our notice to the following issue. 
Dan J. Ory, A.B. '07, was appointed military bandleader in Pitts- 

'08 Gilbert Le Baron, A.B. '08, wrote from Camp Mills, Long Island. He 
was en route to France. We have lately heard that he arrived 
safely overseas. 

'11 J. T. Bauer, A.B. '11, is in the aviation ground school, Carnegie In- 

'12 Captain H. W. Rowbotham, LL.D. '12, had Mass said for the first 
time since the Reformation at his war residence, Mitre Cottage, 
Wilts, England, which was formerly monastic property, on the 
Feast of St. Anthony of Padua, 13th of June, 1918. We cannot 
but congratulate him on his happy privilege, and feel proud that 


an old Spring Hill boy should be instrumental in procuring such a 
glorious return. 
B. J. Dolson, ex A.B. '12, is in the stevedore department. 

'13 Frank Prohaska is still in the supply office, Camp Pike, Ark. He 
, writes that he was surprised to find another Spring Hill boy, Dau- 

nis Braud, in camp. Daunis is in the Fourth Regiment. 
John Metzger, B.S. '13, came on a furlough to Mobile lately, and paid 

us a visit. We congratulate Lieutenant Metzger on his successful 

Frank W. Schimpf, ex B.S. '13, who was on the battleship South 

Carolina, has been transferred to the U. S. S. Sibboney, and has 

made many trips to France. 
W. B. Barker, A.B. '13, is in the medical corps. 
J. Trolio, B.S. '13, is in the Motor Truck Corps. 

'15 Gunby Gibbons, B.S. '15, another one of our sailors, is stationed at 
Tampa, Fla. 

Jos. O'Grady, '15, has a commission in the Regular Army. 

P. Brawner, B.S. '15, has got a commission in the army, and is sta- 
tioned in Honolulu. 

'16 Julian McPhillips, B.S. '16, who has been in the navy for some time, 
paid us a visit on the 17th of September. We were certainly glad 
to see the fine figure he cuts in uniform. 

Edward Crowell, A.B. '16, has received his commission as en- 
sign. We are not surprised, as we knew Eddie was destined for 
great things. May he continue to be appreciated by Uncle Sam. 

Lawrence Hickey, A.B. '16, is at present taking a course in aviation. 
He is stationed at Hampton, Va. If successful at the completion 
of his course he will be promoted to the rank of first lieutenant, 
and then sent for overseas service. The officers at Barancas, Pen- 
sacola, spoke very creditably of his ability, both as a scholar and 
a soldier. They referred to him as 'The light and life of the 

'17 Charles Courtney, B.S. '17, has returned to Spring Hill to enter the 
S. A. T. C. 
Robert Cotter, B.S. '17, for some time past has held a prominent 
position in the Elizabeth Shipyard Co., but has decided to give 
himself more entirely to Uncle Sam. He left in September 
volunteering for the Officers' Training Camp. It is his desire to 


be qualified as a commissioned officer, and we hope success will 
crown his efforts. 

Christopher J. Sullivan is now in the Naval Reserve, aboard the 

■ scout patrol Wanderlust. He writes that he is studying very hard, 
and expects to get an ensign's commission. He declares Spring 
Hill boys ubiquitous, for he has met many on his frequent trips. 
We are sure that his endeavors will be rewarded. 

Thomas M. Keane, A.B. '17, is in the U. S. Naval Hospital, Charles- 
ton, S. C. He works in the ear, nose and throat department. He 
volunteered for France lately, but was not permitted to go. 

John E. Hastings, B.S. '17, is assistant shipdresser at the Merrill- 
Staves Shipyard, Jacksonville, Fla. 

Emmet L. Hollbrook, A.B. '17, is in the 154th Depot Brigade at Camp 
Meade, Md. He had lately the singular experience of being re- 
ported (through error) as missing for his regiment for eight days 
when removed to hospital for a minor operation. 

'18 Sidney Mason, ex B.S. '18, has enlisted in the naval reserves, and is 
; • stationed at West End. 

Noel Schweers, ex B.S. '18, has joined the cavalry. 

D. Ross Druhan, ex A.B. '18; Andrew C. Smith, ex A. B. '18, and 
James Courtney, ex A.B. '19, have pronounced the first vows of 
the Society of Jesus at St. Stanislaus Novitiate, Macon, Ga. The 
Springhillian wishes them and Alphonso T. Shelby, ex A.B. '17, 
who took his vows at the same time, every success. 

Catesby Jones, ex B.S. '18, is at Camp Sheridan, Ala. 

John C. Moulton is at West Point. From all accounts, he is making 
a record course, and Spring Hill needs be proud of her representa- 
tive. We are printing his letter in the Correspondence Depart- 

Minor C. Keith, ex B.S. '18, is in the Motor Cycle Corps. 

C. L. Corbitt, ex B.S. '18, is in the Marines. 
: , B. Thompson, ex B.S. '18, is in the "Tanks." 

'19 Denis A. Curren, ex A.B. '19, won his commission as second lieuten- 
ant at Fort Sheridan. He has been sent to the University of Kan- 
sas to serve as instructor for the S. A. T. C. All his fellow-stu- 
dents at Spring Hill, and especially the football team, of which he 
was captain, wish him all good luck. 
Lucien Soniat, ex B. S. '19, has lately entered the service. His 
brother ,Charles, who enlisted in the marines more than a year 


ago, was wounded in the big drive on July 19. He has since com- 
pletely recovered. 

P. C. DeBardeleben, ex B. S. '19, is in Auburn preparing for the 
marine aviation service. 

John Guiteras is at West Point. He writes : "I am at West Point, 
due, of course, to the training I received at Spring Hill. We have 
a pretty chapel on the reservation, at which we Catholics attend 

Fred S. Hewes, ex A.B. '19, is working for the picric acid plant, and 
has gone to New Orleans to join the naval reserve. He sends his 
best regards to all his old chums. 

'21 Guy J. Soniat, ex B. S. '21, has enlisted in the marines. 

'22 B. Rios Franco is attending Poughkeepsie Business College. He ex- 
perienced a rather unpleasant time at Chattanooga, owing to the 
"censors that be," but perhaps we had better let him tell the story 

S. A. T. C. Locals 


Note — If you can't laugh at the jokes of the age, then LAUGH at the 
age of the jokes. 

Military Street, 

S. A. T. C, Spring Hill College, 

Spring Hill, Alabama 

Dear Archibald: Days passeth — and me finds myself here at college 
in one of those Saturday Afternoon Tea Club schools under one of those 
"As You Were" quarantined — getting up at 6 o'clock, at the strain of "You 
Got to Get Up"— "You Got to Get Up" bugle calls. 

Well, must confess, we have a swell bunch of boys here — and a won- 
derful school — and will try to tell you about some of its fellows and my 
experiences since here. No need of talking — life is all vanity — man is a 
dub. If it takes me four weeks to be acting corporal, will die of old age be- 
fore a commission will be handed me, but a straight salary is good enough 
for me. ** ""■ 

Our commandant is so considerate of us, he says, "We only have to 
work twenty-four hours a day for the Government — after that we can go 
where we please." He claims we don't need any money here, as he will fix 
it so that we get to town only once a month, so he installed his painless 


money extractor system. After paying for all of your insurance, Liberty 
Bonds, etc., you owe the Government one dollar and a quarter. We spend 
three dollars a day here, with only one dollar pay — stay here one year, and 
it takes you three years to get out of debt. 

We have some canteen here. You can buy a five-cent bottle of pop 
here for only ten cents. After fighting your way through the flies for 
about thirty minutes ,and it is your next time, the place closes. Then we 
have to police the grounds. I have noticed this place so often that I am 
thinking of being a cop after the war is over. We do it well, too, because we 
have to do it every day. 

Our commandant is very fond of hunting. He is a good shot. He goes 
out quite often. Now, he Hails from the North, and Alabama game is quite 
different, and peculiar to shoot. You know how it is, Archie. Well, he got 
a Blue bird, a snake, and almost a fish yesterday. He says that if he had 
killed the squirrel he shot at and one more he would have had two, but this 
game don't know him here. 

Now, our acting captain, Eddie Reed, is some scout. He and I went 
to different schools together, and we are quite chummy. He has so many 
boys in his own room at night that he even has to ask permission to get in 
to write a letter — think of it! Some Rube goes dippy and recites "The 
Shooting of Dan Somebody." He has shot him so often I bet he looks like 
a porous plaster by now. You know, Archie, what I mean. He says the 
Government don't make a man fight. They just carry you over there where 
the fighting is, and you can use your own judgment. He is right, too. 

But our top sergeant is a cutter ! Always "Less noise and more work." 
That is his motto. You would die to hear him call out Quinley Hall at for- 
mation. Looks great in his uniform. So skinny that when he closes one 
eye he looks like a needle. The doctor made him quit eating green peas 
because he said that they made him look real lumpy. He is a fine fellow 
and always grinning. We like him, tho — cause "Old Joe" is always there 
with the goods. 

Bienvenu is also here again. He comes from Opelousas. He and I al- 
ways argue which is the bigger town, Opelousas or Crichton. He says he 
don't care, his town has lots of nice things, same as other places. He can't 
fool me — morning, noon and night is all they have the same as any other 
towns — regular towns. 

Have had some cases of the grip here — and some have been pretty sick. 
During one boy's illness — Caesar by name — had a nightmare, and claimed 
a six-foot dollar bill was chasing him up and down the wall. Oh! it wad 
great. They took him over to Damascus Hall until he got better. 


We go on guard duty, too, and it is some experience. If boys don't 
give you cigarettes, arrest them. One boy arrested thirty-eight in one 
day so no one can dispute his record. 

We have some good instructors here. Some are real numerous, and 
some are "Fewer" (Feore). One of them, Keller by name, has some girl. 
She looks like a million dollar baby, he says. I told him not to get the idea 
that the girl with dreamy eyes ain't wide awake on the job. You know that 
you can win a girl in thirty minutes, and sometimes it takes you thirty 
years to lose her, but still Bluebeard's wives weren't the only women that 
lost their heads over a man — so he has a chance. 

Matt Rice is here again from Augusta, Ga. He settled a Georgia col- 
ony here. Still the same old Matt. He says that there are so many boot- 
leggers in his home town that they have to wear badges to keep from sell- 
ing it to each other. He puts his bunch thru in rare form, tho, and wasn't 
here two weeks before he lost his voice — yes, over in the little yard trying 
to make them boys keep their "heads in the game" and wipe the little smiles 
off of their faces, but he sure makes 'em "heads up" and "eyes off the 
ground" to a fare-you-well. 

Assistant Commandant, Major, Colonel, Captain, Acting Second Lieu- 
tenant, Barracks Inspector Cunningham was officer of the day last Sunday. 
In making one of his night rounds, he was halted and asked, "Who is there ?" 
He said, "Officer of the Day," and the guard asked him, "Well, what busi- 
ness have you out here at night, then ?" How is that? He is some smart, 
too, and knows quite a lot. I am sure he does — 'cause he admits it. 

Hack O'Connor is here from Augusta. He is of the Bevo fame, and 
claims it is like kissing your sister — no kick behind it. He is as big North 
and South as he is East and West — no sideways at all. 

Well, we have a bunch of appointed non-coms here. Big boys of the 
school. Ask me not how they got their jobs — it's a shame. No, thank 
goodness, I'm pure ! They do their share, tho, and work like little bees, and 
very occasionally they get stung — dethroned, too. 

Misplaced eye-brows are very common here. Everybody is trying to 
raise one — and, such sights! Some are accidents, some are like baseball 
teams — nine on each side, and some worse — but wait till inspection. Off 
with all of them. 

We do our washing here— all that is done. It's hard work. Funny 
sights to see us all at our sinks, washing. A small boy here remarked that 
it must be paradise to live in Germany — they haven't any soap there, or 
haven't had for six months. 


We have a new eating hall now. Never knew before I joined the army 
why they called the army food mess — I know now. 

Well, Archibald, need must desist. Am feeling tired, and ere soon 
the bugle will blow — lights out! 

Hope you keep well and happy and soon go "over the top" with your 
work. Good luck to you, and best regards to the bunch. 

Always holding my pivot, I am, 

Drillingly yours, ABE 

P. S. — Dear~ Archie, our uniforms came — we wear them on our arms. 

— A — 


The other day the corporal of the guard in making his rounds was 
passing thru some underbrush, and captured two birds — a "Crane" and a 
"Partridge." You know, these are not regular "Forest" birds, but they 
surely are "khaki." He heard a "Russel" in some "Reeds" (Ed and Cur- 
tis) , and when he investigated the cause he found some "More" birds mak- 
ing a "Fuss" over a "Home" which they had located among some broken 
"Glass." ' i ■ ' i 

— a — 

Last Sunday being a "Holliday," we indulged in a lot of sports. We 
had two famous athletes among us. You know that muscular boy ^Arm- 
strong" and that "Springer." The latter seemed to "Byrne out, and did 
not seem to come up to expectations. 

— A — 

Spring Hill is famous for its natural springs, but it now also boasts of 
"Wells"— he is in Squad No. 13. 

— A — 

Latest reports from Lucedale, Miss., state that there are now twelve 
people in Lucedale — the decrease being due to the two Skinners here at 
Spring Hill. 

— * — 

Have you seen those little pigs down at the farm ? One of them is cer- 
tainly going to make a "Cunning-ham." 

-HI — 

Remember, boys, the commandant's orders are when fire call is sound- 
ed, stop only to get your hat. Don't disappoint him. 

— * — 

Question: What are military aims ? 

Answer (from ignorant student) : Why, of course, what you shoot at. 


Volunteer Hotel 

Voice at Midnight: Oh, cut that out, you think you're funny? Who 
threw that valise? Get his name! Why, it hung around my neck like a 

— J — 

Corporal of the Guard: Who's there? 

Answer : Can't I go where I please ? This is "Freeland". 

—A — 

Our Dear Creatures Here — Frances and Beatrous, hard pair — they 
stone cake, rock candy, brick ice cream, etc. 

— A — 

Astrea Redux of the Grids 

Spring Hill College, famed of old, 
Proudly sound your challenge bold ; 
Round the world may it be heard, 
Inviting all to hear your word. 
Never has your football team 
Gained aught else but high esteem. 

Honor is your guide alway — 
It's your main bulwark in the fray. 
Luke O'Dowd, a fighting man, 
Leads you on, a sturdy clan. 

Student soldiers of the Hill, 

A duty great you must fulfill; 

The deeds that make your present fame 

Can brook enhancement, but not shame. 

— A — 

Cubist Poetry 

(Note Rhythm) 

Little fishes in the brook, 
Papa catch them with a hook, 
Mamma fries them in a pan — 
Papa likes his boiled. 
Jack and Jill went up the hill, 
Something to eat to get, 
Jack spent a five dollar bill — 
Gillette 1 


Little grains of water, 
Little drops of sand 
Make the mighty ocean — 
Full of fish. 

Roses are red, violets blue, 
Sugar is scarce — so are bread. 

— * — 

Tragedies of the Guard House 

Rodrique — Who goes there ? 

Friend — A friend with two full quarts. 

Rodrique — Pass on friend ! Halt, Two Quarts ! 

Prisoner (in the guard house) — What time is it? 
Crane (commander of guard) — What do you want to know for; you 
got no place to go! 

Gannon claims that if he ever gets in jail he is going to break out with 
the flu. 

Rodrique (on guard) — Halt! who goes there? Come forward and be 
advanced! ' , ' 

D'Antoni (on guard) — Halt! who goes there? 
Answer — Chaplain. 
D'Antoni — Pass on, Charlie. 

Miazza decided that he could not stand guard with a sore foot. He 
said that he could not do himself justice when a hasty retreat was needed. 

First to bed, 

First to rise, 

First to class, 

We're some guys. By Awkward Squad. 

Mac (to Emrich) — Say, do you know where B. Avenue (Bienvenu is? 

Emrich— No, but I know where C. Street is. 

Try to dope this out : How is it a red cow eats green grass that gives 
white milk that makes yellow butter? Same principle, I suppose, like a 
blackberry : when it's red, it's green. 

Heink, Tu Heink, Ore. — Castagnos. 

Does S. A. T. C. mean "Stick Around Till Christmas?" Ask the Com- 


If the football team got in "Dutch," would Captain Rush? No, but 

If Bienven-u would Castagnos? 

Tears filled the soldier's eye, 

Though brave and true was he, 
For he was peeling onions, 

By the hour on K. P. 

Gianelloni "smiles" when he receives a "blue" letter. And some boys 
often cry when they get the pink slip. 

"Rollum" Wright, or I'll "Cashin," because "I'm in debt." 

We are grieved to announce that our friend, Harry McEnerny, has de- 
veloped a severe case of corporalitis. 

Did you know that Gannon had the audacity to say that Willard heard 
from a reliable source that Reiss had revealed that Petree had stated that 
Kopecky knew that Bannon had said that Deleon had seen that Lopez had 
told Alexis that he thought he saw Grizzard write in his notebook that sol- 
dier boys do not shoot craps. 

Great Men of the Day 

Count Your Change ; Baron Island ; Prince Albert ; Duke Mixture. And 

Skinner, the famous truck gardener, is reported engaged to "The Lady 
of Shalott." 

Faherty had been asked to preach the tobaccolaureate sermon this 

Casale couldn't answer drill on account of his ear. He told the cor- 
poral he got excused from hike because he heard double. 

Corporal, on return from hike, found Casale playing his banjo, and 
asked him if he could hear the music, and how could he play if he heard 
double. Casale said he played by note — not by ear. 

Soft Music (Age Four Years) 

"Have you seen any Americanized bacon?" "No, what kind is it?" 
"Bacon with the rind (Rhine) cut off." 

I'm a little timid around cattle, so please hold your bull. — By Saizon. 

"Have you seen Jenny ?" "Jenny who ?" "Jenny-loni (Gianelloni) ." 


College Visitors 

Rose Wood, Ma-hogany, Carry Papers, Pearl Buttons, Rhoda Bike, 
Sophy Cushion, Elec-Tricity, Al-Falfa, Sally Patica, Lena Gainster. 

What Would You Give To See- 
Sergeant Matthews smoking a pipe while taking the report ? 
Pie a la mode served in the mess hall? 
Major Cunningham put in the guard for a week? 
All the buglers in the camp laid up with the flu? 
Indefinite furloughs sold in the canteen ? 

The Commandant bringing back something from his hunting trips ? 
Girl visitors to the College ? 
Robinson missing a meal? 

Gannon singing, "Then You Know You're Not Forgotten by the Girl 
You Got For Notten"? 

All the Omicron Sigma attending a meeting? 
The new lieutenant giving a snappy salute ? 
Eddie Reed staying awake at lectures? 
Dick Gannon pulling off a regular prize fight ? 

— A — 

Written When Our Camp Muse Had the Flu 

Many a heart is abreaking 

For the dear ones across the sea, 
While many a sad heart is ayearning 

For the good old — Victory ! 

The boys are all doing their hardest 

To finish, and finish up quick 
So why not be brave and patient to see 

Our friend — the enemy — licked? 

It may be a matter of months, 

Or it may be a matter of years, 
But whatever length of time it is, 

Don't let us shed any tears. 

When once our boys get started 

We are sure to win, 'tis true, 
So let's put aside our troubles, 

And stand by the Red, White and Blue ! 

High School Locals 

M. BURKE, A.B. '28 

GETTING INTO Queries heard in camp : One Boy to Another — Say, kid, 
KHAKI are you a new fellow here? "Why, no, I've been here 

since the 17th of September." 
"Got your units yet, Allen?" "Why, I expect to get them. I've come 
back a week ahead of time, I ought to get 'em." 

RED CROSS Friday, the 13th, two stretcher bearers were requisi- 
CALLED FOR tioned. Harry Cashin, an Augusta, Ga., representative, 
was wounded in the first line trenches (near the V.-P.'s 
office) . First aid was called and arrived in due time, and found that Cash- 
in's collar bone was broken. Go to the infirmary for the rest of the details. 
Another Don" Quixote called for aid. This was Hillery. He had a battle 
royal, not with windmills, but with the floor of the gym. Who won ? Ask 

WHO'S WHOT Talk about Mess Orderlies, why they are not in it when 
it comes to Dempsey & Marston, our new storekeepers. 
Hattie Morgan has assumed the responsibility of postmaster general, censor 
and general superintendent of the mail. Hoover's stunts can't compare 
with the rations that Druhan, Murphy, Lourcey and Morgan are supposed 
to dish out to the boys. (Hoover saves — the above-mentioned have shut 
up shop). Our miniature K. C. hut (the Library) is in charge of O'Rourke, 
McKean and Burke. The intellectual ammunition depot (better known as 
the Study Hall) is patrolled by Fitzgibbons, Ford, O'Rourke and Burke. 
The cage is under the control of R. Walsh, R. McEvoy, J. Williard and 
Soules. The officers of the gym and poolroom have not been announced yet. 

RECREATIONS FOR Football was commenced on the 13th, under the super- 
SAMMIES (TO BE) vision of Mr. Ruggeri, S. J., Study Hall Prefect. Many 
of the boys went out for practice. There seems to be 
some good material this year. We hope to have a fine team this season. 
The "Junebugs" were delighted to have their last year's coach, Dickie Wil- 
liard, come over to take charge of them this year, and to show them the 
way to victory. 

COMMANDANT Lieutenant Braund came over to the High School Di- 

PAYS THE H. S. vision and delivered a little address about Military 

A VISIT Training. After he had finished, he divided the boys 

off into squads and started them to drill. These squads 

were placed under different boys, who had had previous military training. 


Matt Mahorner, formerly of the "small yard," came over on the 23rd to 
take charge of the drilling. 

POLICE DUTY Eddie Reed, a member of the R. 0. T. C, came over to 
the High School Division on the 27th, and started the 
boys doing police duty. He assigned squads to clean up the dormitories 
and the yard, and different places about. The boys went to the work with 
a will, and in a very short time the place was pretty clean. After the work 
was finished, Reed made a short address, and the boys were dismissed. At 
roll call we find a boy whose surname is Kaiser. That will never do at 
Spring Hill, so we mark him down as "Pershing." 

SKIRMISH IN Scene: High School Gym. Combatants: Battling 
CAMP George Law and Kid Beat-Em-Up Hahn. Causes of the 

Conflict: ??? Details of Battle by Simonds (the great 
war correspondent) — Hahn's territory invaded by the invincible Law; Hahn 
swatted by "iron fist" in the most lightsome part of his map (his eye) ; 
but Hahn is not to be beaten ; he goes over the top, and gradually breaks 
Law's huge offensive; "no surrender" is the motto of the invincible Law; 
he shows great resources, and both of the indignant ones sue for peace ; all 
ill feelings have been cast aside, and the once would-be enemies are now on 
good terms with one another. 

MILITARY BAND Names were recently taken for would-be musicians. 
Exceptionally good material (supposed to be) on hand. 
We hope the war won't be over before it's started. 

MISCELLANEOUS The Literary Academy and the Sodality have not yet 
been called to order. There is not the least bit of news 
concerning the commencement of these societies. 


A. J. CR0CI, A.B. '23 

OPENING OF Spring Hill gave evidence of a banner year by assem- 
CLASSES bling classes with a record number of students. De- 

spite the fact that many were not scheduled to return 
till October 1, when the S. A. T. C. term would be inaugurated, the number 
of boys totalled 279, the High School alone equalling 17. Before the end of 
September we averaged over 300, and the number has been on the increase. 


FACULTY Some few changes among the faculty are on record: 
CHANGES Rev. F. Cavey, S.J., is Professor in the English Course ; 

Mr. Joyce, S.J., is Professor of Accountancy ; Mr. Whip- 
ple is Prefect of the Junior Division ; Rev. E. C. de la Moriniere, S.J., has 
gone to Loyola University, New Orleans, as Spiritual Father; Mr. J. A. 
Greely, S.J., our former director, has gone to New Orleans to enlarge his 
sphere as Director of the Literary Society and Moderator of Dramatics; 
Rev. J. H. Stritch, S.J., and Rev. A. J. Dougherty, S. J., are Chaplains, the. 
former at Camp Shelby, the latter at Camp Logan. 

ORDINATIONS Last June witnessed the ordination to the Sacred Min- 
istry of four former Professors and Prefects of Spring 
Hill: Rev. Facundus G. Carbajal, S.J., and Rev. G. McHardy, S.J., in Mont- 
real ; Rev. Joseph M. Walsh, S.J., and Rev. T. S. McGrath, S.J., in Barcelona, 
Spain. The Springhillian wishes them many years of usefulness in the 
exercise of their sacred calling. 

R. O. T. €. With the recommendation of Rev. Fr. President, eight 
of this year's graduates were ordered to report at Fort 
Sheridan on July 18, where they remained in training for two months. The 
purpose of this training was that these boys may be of assistance to the 
commandant in training the members of the S. A. T. C. The boys who 
left were : W. Feore, D. Curren, E. Reed, Ed Castagnos, R. Crane, M. Rice, 
0. Bienvenu and J. Keller. 

GOLDEN On August 1, Father Klein, S.J., celebrated the Golden 

JUBILEE Jubilee of his entrance into the Society of Jesus. The 

Rev. Jubilarian was the recipient of many congratula- 
tions at an informal entertainment held in his honor. Among the guests 
were Right Rev. Dr. Allen, Bishop of Mobile, and some of his clergy. 

LAST VOWS On August 15, Rev. P. Cronin pronounced the final 
vows of the Society of Jesus in the College Chapel. An 
informal reception was given in his honor. 

SANCTUARY The first meeting of the St. John Berchmans Sanctuary 
SOCIETY Society was held the morning of Sunday, September 

15, in the Junior Library. The purpose of this meeting 
was to elect officers for the coming year. The meeting was held under the 
supervision of our Moderator, Mr. W. Burns, S.J. Following officers were 
elected: Samuel J. Marston, President; Michael Burke, Vice-President, 
and Daniel J. O'Rourke, Secretary. 


MASS OF THE On October 10, Captain Hubbard McHatton, former 
HOLY GHOST to call down the blessing of God on the difficult work 
of the year. Rev. F. Macdonnell, S.J., was Celebrant; 
Rev. J. Navin, S.J., Deacon ; Mr. O'Loughlin, S.J., Sub-Deacon, and Mr. W. 
Burns, S. J., Master of Ceremonies. Rev. Fr. President took for his text 
"Veni Creator Spiritus," and preached an appropriate sermon on the need 
of invoking the assistance of the Holy Ghost. 

THE NEW CHOIR A new choir was instituted this year from the High 
School Division by Father Cavey, our new Director. 
Although the choir has had very few practices, they made a good showing 
at singing Benediction, and we expect great things from them for the fu- 

COMMANDANT On September 19, Lieutenant Braund, who was sent 
ARRIVES by the Government as Military Instructor to the Col- 

lege, arrived. First drill practice in the S. A. T. C. di- 
vision was immediately commenced on the following day. 

VISITS On October 10, Captain Hubbard McHattan, former 

ALMA MATER Spring Hill student, paid a visit to his old alma mater. 
He was warmly received by all members of the faculty 
who remembered him as a boy. 

VISITS Rev. Fr. Hanselman, superior of the American Assist- 

SPRING HILL ancy of the Society of Jesus, visited Spring Hill on Oc- 
tober 9, before embarking for Europe. His Reverence 
stayed two days, and then left for New York via Macon. 

THE STAFF The Springhillian resumes her literary career with a 
representative staff. The conditions are unprecedent- 
ed, yet we hope that the members of the S. A. T. C. and High School will 
not be too engrossed in military affairs as to be unable to contribute their 
quota for cultivating the standard of former years. Mr. J. Greely, S.J., has 
gone to Baronne street to extend his activities as Director of the Literary 
Society and Moderator of Dramatics. All success to its old director from 
The Springhillian! 

CONDOLENCES Condolences are offered by The Springhillian on the oc- 
casion of the death of Mrs. Mary Emily LeBlanc Walsh, 
which took place on August 1. Her passing, as her panegyrist pointed out, 
was as beautiful as her life, and her greatest consolation in her dying mo- 
ments was that she died the mother of a priest, for her son, Rev. Jos. M. 
Walsh, S.J., was ordained a short time previously. Her death was a loss to 
Church and State. R. I. P. ! 

Spring Hill College 
Roll of Honor 

Andrepont, Oscar 

Ball, Caron 
Ball, Louis E. 
Barker, W. E. 
Bassich, Cyril 
Battle, B. B. 
Baxter, Rosseau 
Bauer, J. T. 
Beary, Andrew T. 
Bienvenu, Lionel 
Becker, John T. 
Becker, Pierre J. 
Becker, James A. 
Bernard, Joseph 
Berry, W. Dabney 
Berthelot, Joseph A. 
Bierman, Edward 
Blankenstein, Edward 
Blackwell, Felix 
Bloch, Arnold K. 
Boagni, Paul 
Bonnabel, Henry J. 
Bonneval, de Henry 
Bonvillian, Charles 
Bourgeois, le Paul 
Burgeois, Sidney 
Burke, Perry 
Burns, Thomas J. 
Brady, Vivian H. 
Braud, Daunis 
Breard, Robert M. 
Brooks, R. 
Brulatout, Benjamin 
Brown, Goronwy 
Brown, John 
Browner, P. 
Bryant, Bernard 
Butt, George 
Byrne, Edward 

Cady, Thomas A. 
Casserly, James 
Casey, James 
Cassidy, Leslie 
Cassidy, Joseph 

Chaepuia, Claud 
Chalm, Henry 
Christontch, A. 
Clements, Jacob 
Colomb, Allan 
Collins, T. 
Constanza, Hoffman 
Corbitt, C. L. 
Costello, Chris 
Courtney, Frank 
Crowell, Edward 
Cummings, M. 
Curren, Denis 
Curran, J. J. 

Daly, James G. 
Daly, Joseph N. 
Daniells, Walter 
Deegan, John E. 
Delahoussaye, Roy E. 
Delaune, Andrew 
Delaune, Ervin 
Deviney, Edward 
Dimitry, Dracos 
Dolson, David 
Dolson, John 
Douglas, Andrew 
Dougherty, Rev. A. J. 
Dowe, Daniel 0. 
Dowe, Flaurence 
Drago, Robert L. 
Ducote, R. 
Duggan, James 
Dyer, Donald 

Ferall, James 
Ferment, Aleris 
Finch, Gregory 
Fischer, Henry 
Flatuer, Adolph 
Fossier, D'Hauecourt J. 
Fossier, Walter 
Fuller, Robert 
Gallagher, C. Stapleton 
Garland, Henry 



Garber, James R. 
Gervais, Norman 
Gibbons, Ashly 
Gibbons, Gunby 
Gibbons, J. Rapier 
Gillespie, Francis 
Gortarino, J. 
Gray, Herbert 
Grefer, Archibold 
Gremillion, Henry 
Guteras, John 
Guyton, James 

Hahn, Albert 
Hamilton, Percy 
Hanley, John 
Harmon, Barrie 
Harty, Emmet 
Harty, Joseph 
Hartz, Joseph 
Harris, Frank U. 
Herbert, Ernest 
Henderson, William 
Hickey, Lawrence 
Hoffman, George 
Hoffman, William S. 
Holden, F. Cleary 
Holland, Charles 
Homel, J. 
Horkin, George 
Horkin, Thomas 
Hunt, Thomas 
Hymel, David 

Indest, Pointis E. 
Inge, Marion 

Johnson, Arthur, 
Johnson, Joseph E. 
Jagoe, Leo 
Johnson, William 

Keane, Thomas 
Kearns, Joseph 
Keoughan, James 
Kearns, William 
Kelly, T. Howard 
Kelly, Thomas J. 
Kelly, Thomas F. 
Kelly, William 

Klosky, Simon 
Kuhn, F. 

Lange, Clarence J. 
Lange, Sidney A. 
Lanham, Charles 
Lasseigne, George 
Lelong ,Anthony 
Lindsey, Fred 
Lindsey, James A. 
Logan, Joseph S. 
Logan, William E. 
Lowenstein, Henry C. 
Lovetta, L. 
Lynch, C. 

Mackin, James 
Martell, Joseph 
Mayer, Reyam 
McAfee, John C. 
McCarthy, Dr. George 
McCarthy, John 
McCarthy, William 
McEnnis, Bernard 
McHatton, Hubbard 
Mclntyre, Joseph D. 
McKenna, Edward P. 
McPhillips, Julian 
Metzger, John 
Meyer, Edwin 
Meyer, Emmett 
Merith, Edmond 
Moulton, John 
Moresi, John Louis 
Murphy, Louis H. 
Murray, John 
Murray, Joseph 

Neely, Duggan 
Neuberger, Lawrence 
Nicrosi, William 
Nicrosi, Peter 
Norville, Joseph H. 

O'Connor, Thomas 
O'Dowd, Edward 
O'Grady, Joseph 
O'Leary, James 
O'Leary, Pearse 
Olivera, Edward 
O'Neil, Kerwin 



Orai, Frank 
Overby, Thomas 
Ory, D. J. 
Owens, Edward H. 

Patterson, Henry 
Patout, Philip 
Pardue, Sherman 
Ptarce, Charles 
Peters, T. 
Prohaska, Frank 
Provosty, Alvin 
Provosty, Louis 
Pudor, Walter 

Ratterman, George 
Rapier, James G. 
Rault, Clemens 
Reilly, Daniel 
Reilly, Maurice 
Reed, Roger 
Reiss, Norman 
Reynaud, Oscar J. 
Rougon, Albert 
Rougon, Joseph B. 
Rounds, Kenneth 
Robbotham, Francis 
Roycroft, Willis 
Rush, Dr. John 0. 

Salaun, Milton 
Sanchez, Gilbert 
Schmitt, William 
Schoen, Phillip 
Schimpf , F. 
Scott, Walter 
Scott, John G. 
Shwessler, Paul S. 
Schweers, Nowell 
Shephard, Darwin 
Shepherd, Thomas 
Sheridan, Howard 
Shoewalter, Edward 
Slattery, Paul 
Soniat, Charles 
Soniat, Leon 
Soniat, Guy 
Soniat, Lucien 
Spotswood, Joseph 
Stollenwerk, Andrew S. 
Staub, Edwin 

Stauffer, Walter 
Steinreide, Joe 
Stritch, Rev. John E. 
Suderman, Rudolph 
Suderman, Charles 
Sullivan, Christopher J. 
Supple, Joseph W. 

Taft, Eugene 
Tarlton, Francis S. 
Taylor, George B. 
Theobold, George B. 
Thibault, Clarence C. 
Timothy, Christopher 
Thompson, A. 
Thompson, B. 
Touart, Anthony J. 
Tighe, Frank 
Timothy, H. 
Tobin, J. 
Touart, Clarence 
Touart, Rupert G. 
Trolio, John 
Tutweiler, Millard 
Tyrrell, James 

Van Heuval, John 
Vaughan, James R. 
Vickers, Nicholas S. 
Vigori, John P. 
Viguerie, Duke J. 
Vila, Vincent 
Voorhies, Sidney C. 

Wagner, Toxey J. 
Wagner, Hunter 
Walker, Merriott 
Walmsley, Carroll 
Walmsley, Semmes 
Walmsley, William 
Weatherly, Wallace 
Weene, Douglas 
Wilson, Henry 
Wogan, John 
Wohner, Clarence 
Wood, Frank P. 
Wohner, M. 
Woulfe, Maurice 

Youres, Charles S. 

Zeigler, Alfred 

£!)• x\.» X • V^/» 

Alexis, Ralph R. 
Allen, Joseph M. 
Anderson, Marion 
Andre, Paul L. 
Andreke, George 
D'Antoni, Dominick 0. 
Arnaudet, Martin L. 

Bannon, J.* 
Beatrous, Thomas A. 
Bienvenu, Oscar J. 
Blankenstein, William C. 
Blankenstein, F.* 
Bodier, V.* 
Bohen, William R. 
Bolian, Emile T. 
Bosarge, Edward 
Boudousquie, Louis J. 
Burguieres, D.* 
Burke, J.* 
Byrne, R.* 

Campbell, James G. 
Casale, Salvatore G, 
Cashin, Edward J. 
Cashin, Lawrence F. 
Castagnos, Edmund J, 
Cerise, Henry A. 
Clinton, Lionel G. 
Colee, Stanley 
Conlon, Francis W. 
Cooney, John F. 
Courtney, Charles E. 
Coyle, C* 
Cronin, James J. 
Cunningham, Francis J. 
Curren, William J. 
Curtis,- Arthur R. 

D'Antoni, Salvadore 
d'Aquin, John* 
Day, William H. 
de Leon, Louis A. 
Dimmock, Charles D. 
Discon, Thomas P. 
Dolson, Charles M. 


Emrich, Arthur B. 

Fabacher, J.* 
Faherty, Frank P. 
Feore, Arthur W. 
Flautt, J.* 
Flautt, Henry B. 
Flanigen, George J. 
Flanagan, Walter J. 
Fogarty, Augustus K. 
Foucher, DeWeen 
Foy, Walter L. 
Francis, Frederick G. 
Freeland, William R. 
Fuss, John J. 

Gannon, Richard D. 
Gianelloni, Lefebvre 
Gianelloni, S. J. 
Gilmore, Basil C. 
Glass, Harry 
Graham, Thomas P., Jr. 
Grehan, Harold S. 
Grizzard, Henry W. 

Hails, Thomas G. 
Haller, Karl 
Hanlein, Francis 
Healey, Raymond* 
Heickelheim, Hubert R. 
Hemstreet, Frank S. 
Hermann, Benito 
Hillery, John R. 
Hogan, Ben A. 
Holliday, James E. 
Holloway, Emanuel H. 
Home, Charles L. 
Hughes, William 

Inge, Clifton 

Johnson, Forrest J. 
Jones, Frank V. 

Karcher, William 
Kelley, Clement V. 
Kelsey, Nelson F. 



Heroes of l\)e Marne and others" 



Killion, Fred W. 
Kopecky, Joseph J. 

Le Sassier, Henry* 
Lions, L. E.* 
Lopez, C* 
Lucas, Alphonse 

Maher, Richard 
Mahoney, Vincent* 
Mahorner, H.* 
Mahorner, M.* 
Masters, Michael N. 
Matthews, Joseph W. 
Mead, William J. 
Meyer, B. 
Miazza, James F. 
Milam, Ernest A. 
Moore, Joseph A. 
Moslander, James A. 
Mulcahy, Patrick J. 
Mullane, Philip 
Murray, E.* 
McCarthy, John T., Jr. 
McEnerny, Harry Emmet 
McEvoy, Owen E. 
McGraw, George F. 
McKenna, Frank L. 
McMahon, Thomas 
McMillan, H. A. 
McMurray, Arthur J. 
McShane, John W. 

Nixon, John W. 

Oberkirke, James H. 
O'Connor, Harry 
O'Connor, Miles J. 
O'Dowd, Louis 

Partridge, Frederick C. 
Pascoe, William V. 
Petree, Eugene 
Pigott, Charles 
Poche, Marcel A. 
Poe, Raymond R. 

Ray, James E. 
Reed, Curtis F. 

*Volunteer Member. 

Reed, James E. 
Reiss, G. 
Reynaud, S.* 
Richard, Raymond* 
Roberts, William R. 
Robichaux, A.* 
Robinson, James E. 
Robinson, John E. 
Rodrigue, G.* 
Rodrigue, Xavier E. 
Russel, William Joseph 

Saizan, G.* 
Scheckler, Edward 
Schweers, Eugene F. 
Schwegman, George A. 
Sehler, Karl L. 
Sere, Darby 
Sere, Raoul, Jr.* 
Sherman, John J. 
Shirer, Erwin W. 
Simpson, Howard* 
Skinner, George 
Skinner, Raphael 
Sossaman, Lucius C. 
Springer, Harry M. 
Straub, Augustus 
Strauss, Edward 
Strauss, Victor 
Street, C. 
Sullivan, John G. 
Sullivan, M. P. 

Theriot, Howard 
Thoman, Louis Edward 
Tomlin, James V. 
Trudeau, G. 
Tumminello, Joseph* 

Van Liew, J. R. 
Vickers, M.* 
Villien, L. 

Walker, Charles A. 
Walsh, Joseph R. 
Wells, Edmund W. 
Whittington, Harry 
• Willard, Richard A. 
Willard, Charles* 



Rev. Francis Xavier Finegan, S. J. 

Rev. Francis X. Finegan, S.J., a well known member of the faculty of 
the College of the Immaculate Conception, died at the Hotel Dieu on the 
afternoon of the 6th of June. His death followed an operation for appendi- 
citis. Prior to his sudden attack of acute appendicitis, he had been attend- 
ing to his ordinary duties in the Church and College, and had even taken 
part in the great Catholic parade on the 2nd of June for the installation of 
Archbishop Shaw. On the operating table the doctor found that the malady 
had already made fatal inroads, and plainly stated that he deemed recov- 
ery impossible. 

Father Finegan was born in New York City on the 18th of May, 1875, 
and educated at the College of St. Francis Xavier in that city. At the age 
of seventeen he entered the New Orleans Province of the Society of Jesus ; 
made his novitiate and juniorate at Macon, Ga., from 1892 to 1896; taught 
in the College of the Immaculate Conception, New Orleans, for the school 
year 1896-1897; made his course in philosophy at St. Charles College, 
Grand Coteau, La., from 1897 to 1900 ; taught at Spring Hill College from 
1900 to 1903. In September, 1903, he began his course in theology at 
Woodstock College, Md., where he was ordained to the priesthood on the 
28th of June, 1906, by His Eminence, Cardinal Gibbons. From his ordi- 
nation to 1909 he was once more on the teaching staff of the Immaculate 
Conception College. In September, 1909, he went to St. Andrew-on-Hudson, 
N. Y., for his year of Tertianship, and on his return South was stationed 
for a year at St. John's College, Shreveport, La. Thence, in 1911, he was 
called to Tampa, Fla., where for two years he was vice-president and teach- 
er in the Sacred Heart College. In 1913 he was recalled to New Orleans, 
where, up to his unexpected and lamented death, he was actively engaged 
in the work of the Church and College of the Immaculate Conception. 

Father Finegan is a distinct loss not only to the community of which 
he was an esteemed member, but to the New Orleans Province of the So- 
ciety of Jesus. Though cut off in the prime of life, he died full of days and 
merits. His life was one of intense activity, both as educator and priest. 
For the past five years he had given himself to the study of the rules and 
methods of the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin, and had come to be recog- 
nized as an authority on all points relating to them. 

Father Finegan was eloquent as a preacher ; wrote graceful prose, and 
was not unknown to fame in the more exclusive field of poetry. He was a 
welcome contributor to our Catholic magazines, and his ode "Massatoielle" 


in praise of Our Lady of Lourdes, which appeared originally in the Mes- 
senger of the Sacred Heart, has been incorporated in Volume Four of "The 
Apparitions of Heaven's Bright Queen," by Wm. J. Walsh. 

On his return to consciousness after the operation, Father Finnegan 
realized that his hours were numbered, and resigned himself to the Divine 
will. He received the Last Sacraments with great devotion, and requested 
that one of the Fathers should remain by him to the end. Shortly before 
his agony set in, he begged the attending priest to give him absolution for 
the last time, and the faith and piety he manifested in this last conscious 
act of his life was truly touching, and such as to move the hardest heart. 
For the space of an hour he went through a terrible agony, and then re- 
signed his soul into the hands of its Creator. 

His life was an example of duty faithfully performed, and with no 
hope of reward here below. Let us hope that when his soul winged its flight 
to Heaven it was welcomed into God's home by "Heaven's Bright Queen" 
whom he had loved and served from childhood even unto his dying hour. — 
R. LP.! 

Rev. Edward Ignatius Fazakerley, S.J. 

Rev. Edward Ignatius Fazakerley, S.J., died at the Hotel Dieu, New 
Orleans, on the 30th of August. His death was a loss not only to the Col- 
lege on Baronne street, of which he was vice-president, but also to Spring 
Hill, for his memory as a professor here was still cherished. 

Edward I. Fazakerley was born May 9, 1867, at St. Helens, Lanca- 
shire, England. His father, an alien of the faith, married Miss Woods, a 
Catholic lady of Irish descent, and by her was brought to embrace the doc- 
trines of the true Church. Seven children blessed their union, six boys and 
a girl. Of these, Edward Ignatius was the third oldest. From his very 
boyhood he was brought into close contact with the Jesuit Fathers, and in 
1878 was one of the first to volunteer as an altar-boy in the new church of 
St. Michael, in his native town. Later on, he became acquainted with two 
Jesuits afterwards destined to fill high positions in their Order, to-wit, 
Very Rev. F. X. Wernz, S.J., late general of the Society of Jesus, and Very 
Rev. Fr. Purbrick, S.J., who became Provincial of the English Province, 
and later of the Maryland-New York Province of the Society. The youth- 
ful altar-boy was a great favorite with these Fathers, and it was a special 
source of joy to him to have had the honor of being assisted in his first 
Holy Mass by the friend of his youth, Father Purbrick, then Provincial of 
the Maryland-New York Province. 

After completing his preparatory studies in his home town, young 
Fazakerley followed the classical course at the Jesuit College of St. Francis 


Xavier, Liverpool, from 1880 to 1885. In the summer of the latter year 
he sailed for America, and on the 31st of August entered the Jesuit Novi- 
tiate at Florissant, Mo., as a candidate for the New Orleans Province of 
the Society of Jesus. Having successfully passed the two years of trial in 
the novitiate, he was transferred to the house of studies just then opened 
at Macon, Ga. To his two years of study of Ancient and Modern Classics 
at Macon, five years of laborious years of regency as a master in the Jesuit 
colleges at New Orleans, Galveston and Spring Hill followed. Next came a 
successful course of Philosophy at Grand Coteau, La., from which he passed 
on to the study of Theology at Woodstock, Md. On the 28th of June, 1900, 
he received the holy order of Priesthood from the hands of Cardinal Gib- 
bons at Woodstock. From the completion of his Theology in 1901 the re- 
maining years of his life (with the exception of the one passed in the Ter- 
tianship at Poughkeepsie, N. Y.), were spent in college work, and all except 
the last two were lived in Spring Hill College, which, to him, was like home. 

Father Fazakerley was essentially a teacher, and had successfully man- 
aged almost every grade from Preparatory to Rhetoric. He had with the 
close of the session in June of this year attained his majority as a college 

One of our Fathers, who has lived on close terms of intimacy with the 
deceased, in fact, lived next door to him in Spring Hill College for several 
years, declared to the writer that he has never known a religious more 
exact in the performance of his spiritual exercises than was Father Faza- 
kerley. "His nightly examination of conscience," said this same Father, 
"he was wont to make in the house chapel, lest if he made it in his own 
room, some untimely visitor or other source of distraction might cause him 
to curtain an exercise that he regarded as of prime importance in his spir- 
itual life." And the writer, who esteemed Father Fazakerley, does not hes- 
itate to add that he regarded him as a Jesuit who had always kept the 
"home fires" of his first fervor "burning." In the Tertianship, under the 
masterful direction of the late Rev. Wm. O'Brien Pardow, S. J., Father Fa- 
zakerley put a bright polish to a spiritual life that was already bright and 
sparkling, and the beauty of it all was that this polish never came off. 

By a coincidence, Father Fazakerley was buried on the thirty-third 
anniversary of his entrance into the Society of Jesus. On the 30th day of 
August, all day long, the remains lay in state in the Church of the Immac- 
ulate Conception, and were visited by several hundreds of friends and for- 
mer pupils. At 6 a. m. next morning a Requiem Mass was celebrated for 
his repose by the Very Rev. E. Mattern, S.J., Provincial of New Orleans, 
and onetime fellow-novice of the deceased. Rev. J. D. Foulkes, S.J., Rector 
of the Immaculate Conception College, accompanied the sacred remains to 


Spring Hill College, where in the quiet College cemetery, which contains the 
graves of so many of his brother priests, the body of Father Fazakerley 
was laid to rest. And so, "after life's fitful fever he sleeps well" under the 
over-shadowing pines that forever whisper a requiem for the dead. "Soft 
sigh the winds of Heaven o'er his grave," and may his holy soul rest in 
peace. J. J. O'Brien, S.J. 

Rev. Thomas Clarke, S.J. 

Coming like a bolt from the blue, as we go to press, the news of Father 
Clarke's death in New Orleans leaves us little time to do justice to his mem- 
ory. In him, Loyola has lost a distinguished chemist ; Spring Hill a beloved 
teacher and prefect ; the Southern Province one of its most illustrious mem- 
bers. His death will be deplored not only by the university of whose faculty 
he was such a shining light, but by all who have come in contact with him. 
A graduate of the Universities of North Carolina and Bonn, he added to 
his natural parts qualities which made him not only admired, but loved. He 
was not merely a great student and scientist, but a true and pious Priest 
whose life was founded on love and service to his Divine Master and in de- 
votion to duty. To those who knew him well these words might suffice to 
express our grief, for their loss is our loss. That those who knew him not 
may learn his value, we await a more favorable opportunity (afforded by 
another issue) , for within such a small compass, an appreciation of his life 
and work were impossible. R. I. P. ! 

Rev. James Lonergan, S.J. 

Born in County Tipperary, Ireland, August 15, 1835 
Died at Jesuit College, New Orleans, La., October 16, 1918 

Spring Hill cannot but deeply mourn the death of one so closely allied 
to her interests as Fr. Lonergan. He was the embodiment of her ancient 
history, and his passing might seem coincidental with the yielding of the 
old order to the new. Occurring so soon after that of Fr. Clarke, his de- 
cease had, despite his 83-odd years, something of the unexpected. His 
story— the story of Spring Hill, writ in everything around us, even in the 
soil in which we laid him, and in the pines underneath which he now re- 
poses, were too long to be told in such a short and imperfect notice as ours 
must necessarily be. How beautiful the span of his life ! From his child- 
hood, cradled in the Golden Vale to his Patriarchate in Augusta— the last 
scene of his active labors (as one of his parishioners termed it). 

From Tipperary we hear of his pious childhood ; from New Orleans, of 
his chivalrous youth, where he served under the standard of Lee ; from 
Baton Rouge of his enlistment under the banner of St. Ignatius, and of the 


first proof of his great charity when he devoted himself so generously 
to the service of the sick. Little wonder that one who gave such promise 
in his early religious life should have been so universally loved and es- 
teemed — that Stoneyhurst and St. Buenos should cherish such happy re- 
membrances of his scholastic days— Spring Hill still loves that hand which 
piloted her destinies for so many years — Augusta hails him as her beloved 
pastor. Of Fr. Lonergan's interior life we need say but little. To God 
alone we can leave the perusal of that long epic of sixty-three years' toil 
up the daily Calvary of religious life. He only, can survey the proportions 
of that temple of devotion built on the groundwork of Faith, adorned with 
many virtues, beautified by the presence of the souls he saved and the 
hearts he won to his God. While we await a more lengthy and appropriate 
account of his worth and work, in our next issue, the remembrance of his 
zeal and charity shall remain, and his example serve as an inspiration to 
many. R. LP.! 

Mr. J. D. Ory 

Mr. J. D. Ory, A.B. '07, of La Place, La., who occupied the position of 
military band-leader at Pittsburgh, died on the 15th instant. His death was 
followed soon after by that of his wife, Mrs. Ory. To their relatives, we 
offer the most sincere condolences. 

Mr. Stanislaus P. Cowley 

Mr. Stanislaus P. Cowley, ex A.B. '01, a prominent" business man of 
Mobile, died on the morning of October 17, after a short illness. He was 
born at Toulminville, on April 13, 1883, and was educated at Spring Hill. 
To his family, we extend our sympathy. R. I. P.! 

Marc T. Gremillion, B.S. '19 

As we relinquished our civilianship October 1, and identified ourselves 
with the great Student Army, Death stalked acros our horizon. We lit- 
tle thought as we pledged our lives to the country's cause that one of our 
number would soon be called to make the supreme sacrifice. The summons 
-ame, but in a manner unexpected. Not on shell-swept field nor 'mid the 
cannon's roar did Marc T. Gremillion pay the price in full. His was the 
peaceful, though less spectacular passing, of the hero in the line of duty. 
Nor is his glory thereby dimmed— for heroism knows not time nor place, 
and finds itself on fevered bed as on the firing line. As a volunteer, Marc 
gave of his all, and Patriot can do no more. 

His life, like his death, was even and unmarked, and his character was 
in harmony with both. His was not the showy part in any walk of life. He 



never tried to pose for what he was not, but was always remarkable for 
his consideration of the interests of others, and for his conscientious adher- 
ence to duty. These qualities won for him a high esteem among his asso- 
ciates. Although only a year among us — he came to Spring Hill on Sep- 
tember 12, 1917, after completing his preliminary studies at the Marks ville 
High School — he had a large circle of fast and warm friends. Of fine phy- 
sique, though he would not have attained his eighteenth year until No- 
vember 15, his death on October 9, at the Providence Infirmary, was as 
unexpected as sudden. May we face our summons, if not in similar cir- 
cumstances, at least with the same calm courage. R. I. P. ! 


With Our Exchanges 

The June Issue of LUNINIA, the St. Ignatius College journal, is marked by a 
variety of patriotic literature. "Foch, the Man of the Hour," is a splendid article on 
our Generalissimo, and "The Red Ribbon" is another pleasing war story. The writer 
of "What the Catholics Are Doing to Win the War" is certainly to be commended for 
the careful treatment of the subject in hand. Essays with such clear examples and 
statistics are the best means of informing our Catholic populace and refuting the state- 
ments of the anti-Catholic bigots. The verse is also of a high order; "Vesper Bells" 
being a meditative reverie, and "The Thrill of the Flag" a beautiful poem, tending to 
inspire the reader with a redoubled reverence and devotedness to our "Old Glory." 


"On Military Stret," in ST. PETER'S COLLEGE JOURNAL, is a short, yet meri- 
torious poem. In fact, "The Call to Arms," and nearly all the other poetry is very 
creditable. It seems to us that this issue could have been improved by the addition of a 
short story or two. Of the essays, "After the War" is particularly expressive of deep 
thought and careful development. 


The CANISIUS MONTHLY, a well-balanced magazine, contains a variety of excel- 
lent selections. Besides a fine editorial and a number of poems, the essays deserve spe- 
cial mention. In the essay "Henryk Scenkiewicz," the writer displays a thorough knowl- 
edge of his subject, and ably portrays the remarkable library genius and noble patriot- 
ism of the famous author. "The Spy From Oxford" is another of the war stories which 
are naturally so much in style; however, the composer makes the whole very interesting 
and brings it to a pleasant conclusion by the reunion of two old chums. 

In the Commencement number of the CAMPION, we are glad to note a deserving 
tribute to the heroic Sisters of Charity in "The Best Man." Though seldom brought 
before the public, their noble sacrifices are no less worthy of reward. Of the poems 
that are entered in this issue, "Ad Astra" appears to be among the best, for it contains 
many noble and inspiring lessons clothed in excellent language. 

We lExtPtrt ©ur Wishes fnr a 

Uteri} QHjrtBtmaa 

and a 

Irtgljt an& ijappy Npui frar 




frontispiece: "Announcement to the Shepherds"...87 
Christmas Vigil (Verse) 89 

J. MEAD, A.B. '21 

of Peace (Essay) 91 

"KOPECKY. A.B. '1') 

Somewhere at Sunrise (Verse) 93 

E. A. HUGHES, A.B. '23 

Bismarck's Babel (Essay) 94 


Christmas 1918 (Verse) 98 

G. C, A.B. '21 

H. M. S. Otranto (Story) 99 

V. MAHONEY, A.B. '22 

My Friend Overseas (Verse) 102 


Yuletide Stars (Story) 105 


Thou Art Beyond (Verse) 110 

G. A. 

Sergeant Wright Reports (Story) Ill 


A Herald of Peace (Verse) 114 

A. C. M. 

Told at Mess (Story) 115 


The Poet of Ukraine (Essay) 121 


God's Warrior (Verse) 126 

a. c. M. 

War Novels (Essay) 137 

G. SCHWEGMAN, B.S. '1!) 

EDITORIAL— Holly and Olive 127 

Holly and Olive 127 

"Annus Mirabilis" 128 

Communications 129 

High School Locals 140 

S. A. T. C. Notes 155 

Football 164 

Honor Roll, S. H. C 177 

S. A. T. C. Roll 180 

Exchanges 181 

■■■ ■ ■ ■ . ■ . .-. ■ ■ ■ ■■■ =s^ 







uty? ^jtrt«gl|ttltan 



No. 2 

It was a weary, weary winter, and the land was clad with snow, 
And a cruel wind, so frosty, never ceased to bite and blow. 
In the valley, on the mountain, for the peasant, for the king, 
It was winter, snowy winter — such as Time doth seldom bring. 

In a cottage low and humble on the summit of a hill — 
Now the spot is all deserted, though the hut is standing still — 
Lo ! an aged form with silv'ry locks that many winters told, 
Lay adying, slowly dying, in that humble cot and cold! 

Not a sound without that dwelling, save the lonely wintry whine, 
Not a light, save glinting glances from the midnight's starry shine ; 
Not a voice within the cottage broke the stillness of the air, 
Save the sacred, solemn whisper of a sweetly soothing prayer. 

'Twas a whisper to the dying, from a tearful voice and sad, 
'Twas the whisper of a Shepherd Boy, a noble-hearted lad, 
As he knelt and prayed to Heaven, kneeling on the cottage floor, 
At the bedside of his grandsire, ere he part forevermore. 

And the wintry wind kept blowing, and the starry night kept clear, 
While the aged form grew fainter, and the midnight hour drew near. 
And the Shepherd Boy still whispered — whispered of a Home Above, 
Of a land of hope and promise, blessed home of all we love. 

Twas the feast of Joyous Yuletide — of the night when Christ was born, 
And the Angels came from Heaven to the shepherds on the lawn. 
And announced to them the tidings, happy tidings of great joy, 
And a sigh of sorrow mingled with the whisper of the boy. 


Loud the distant bells were ringing of the chapel down the vale 
To proclaim to all the holy, happy, oft-repeated tale, 
And their music climbed the hill-side on the frosty wintry air, 
As the faithful hurried forward to unite in Christmas prayer. 

Lo ! the aged hands grow colder, and the youthful voice no more 
Whispers prayer or word of comfort as he kneels upon the floor. 
But a slow and heavy breathing, and a tremor, and a chill 
Tell the story of that Christmas in the cottage on the hill. 

See, a light without the window ! Hark ! a tapping at the door, 
And the youth springs from his posture on the little cottage floor. 
Now the lonely room is lighted, now the wind without has ceased, 
And a form bends o'er the dying — 'tis the figure of a priest. 

Sweetly falls the benediction — and the tidings that were told 
By the Angels to the Shepherd Boys in the Bethlehem of old 
Of the coming of the Savior, when the Holy One was born, 
Now re-echo in that cottage on this starry Christmas morn. 

He is come, the One, the Holy, He whom Angel hosts had sung ; 
See, the tiny, spotless wafer rests upon the dying tongue. 
And the chapel bells are silent, and the mid-night mass is said, 
But an aged form is absent, and 'tis whispered "He is dead !" 

Many years have now departed, many wintry winds have swept 

O'er that mountain and that valley since that boy his vigil kept ; 

And again the wind is whining, and the frost is bitter cold, 

And I fancy I can hear my father tell, as oft he told, 

How in boyhood, when a shepherd, where a ruined hut now stands, 

At the bedside of his sire he had knelt with clasped hands 

In a snowy, cold December he had knelt to watch and pray 

Till the Angels on that Christmas took the holy soul away. 

And the Christmas bells of churches, and the cold and frosty air 

Ever fill me with the mem'ry of that vigil and that prayer. 

And 'mid all the Christmas gladness, 'mid delights of Yuletide joy, 

'Tis my prayer that I may be as was my father when a boy. 

—J. MEAD, A.B. '21 

Princes of Peace 


^■^ LESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS," said the first Prince 
/~\ of Peace, and while Humanity has held up to scorn the great 

^^w War Lords of history, its love has always followed those who 

have forwarded the interests of peace. Scarcely a book or 
lengthy article has been printed during the past four years 
that has not lauded the warriors of the different nations. Nor 
did the writers confine themselves to the present. History 
was raked for examples, and the ghosts of Marlborough and 
Wellington, Buonaparte and the Great Frederick were called 
forth from their tombs to bear witness to the martial valor 
to their respective countries. It was right that it should be so, 
for the men who give their lives for their country are ever first in our 
hearts. Now that the trumpet of Peace has resounded, and the last sol- 
dier has taken leave of his dugout, we should give at least a cursory con- 
sideration to those other heroes — the heroes not of the laurel only, but of 
the olive branch. Those who have devoted their efforts both in the pres- 
ent and in the past to the obtaining of that peace — which is in the end the 
object of every just war, must not be forgotten. America's gallery of Peace 
heroes is second to none. From him who was said to be first in peace as in 
war the line swings down to our own times through Roosevelt, who joined 
the Russian and Jap some ten years ago, to our own President, whose ef- 
forts in December, 1916, won the admiration of the world. His present 
ethical stand on the rights of Victory — that success in arms does not of 
itself confer any special rights on the victor — the rights enjoyed by the 
victor at the close of the war are those which are present from the begin- 
ning of the war. All these prove his desire for the world's peace, which can 
only be secured by a just settlement. Nor can we exclude from our list 
the present British Premier, who, though a fighter to a finish, fights for 
peace alone. His doctrine that the privileges that accrue from a just war 
are — the right to recover property or honor according to the injustice done 
— the right to exact compensation for losses contracted in the war — the 
right to put down an attitude of permanent hostility on the part of the 
defeated state — all these are based on the finest ethics and show him to 
be a true advocate of peace, that peace which endures. However unsuccess- 
ful and maligned in his endeavors, Benedict XIV was second to none in his 
desire for a satisfactory settlement, when he sent forth his famous peace 
proposals of August, 1917. He was but following the example of a long 
line of predecessors known through history not only as the spiritual head 
of the nations, but also as the chief mainstay of peace. The Popes of Rome 
have proven themselves leaders in this crusade of preserving harmony 


among the nations. Obeyed by crowned heads, their position was the jus- 
tification of their action. So great was their influence in the Middle Ages 
in this respect that the Protestant Sismondi acceded that "In he midst of 
the conflicts of jurisdiction, the Pope alone proved to be the defender of the 
people, the only pacifier of great disturbances." Even in the early centuries 
Pope Leo the Great stayed the barbarians from destroying Rome, as Gene- 
vieve stayed Attila before Paris and caused them to leave the city in peace. 
Honorius the Third has been known as the "Peacemaker" for his success 
in settling the quarrels of France and Arragon, and later that of France 
and England. Innocent IV and Nicholas III were similarly successful as 

EVEN THE ROMANS OF OLD had their Princes of Peace. Augustus, 
the first emperor of Rome, has gained this reputation, for during his 
long reign the vast Roman Empire almost continually enjoyed a happy 
period of peaceful prosperity. Pepin and his son Charlemagne are renowned 
champions of peace during the mediaeval ages. Though these heroes 
waged war, it was because they ruled in stormy periods, and in order that 
they might better promote the interests of peace they were compelled to 
subdue the various unruly races of the continent. John Sobieski, the chiv- 
alrous King of Poland, is another striking example of an advocate of peace. 
With a relatively small army, he quelled the ambitious Turks when they 
strove to upset the peace of all Europe. 

past. What shall be their success in the future? Whether wars will 
ever be wholly eliminated by their efforts as development proceeds and 
society becomes more consolidated and unified, it would be impossible to 
say ; whether peaceful arbitration will ever become the universally accepted 
substitute for war, it would be futile to discuss. But certainly to that end, 
the world in time of peace should direct its best and most untiring efforts. 
"But if with time it becomes evident that the chancelleries of the world 
are unable to devise, or through their mutual jealousies are prevented from 
agreeing upon some more human method for the settling of international 
disputes than that method of which the brute animals are the finished 
exponents, the method, namely, of tooth and claw, of blood and slaughter, 
then it is for the peoples themselves on whom the burdens and horrors of 
war fall heavily and assuredly to approach the problem, to devise a better 
method, and by every constitutional means at their disposal to see that it 
is accepted by the governments of the world" No surer and better way 
have we of attaining this object than by keeping before us the example of 
those heroes whom men call Princes of Peace. 

^omeroljpre at £unrt0? 


ERE, COMRADES, get my rosary, 

It's been my guiding light, 
It's kept me back from evil ways 

And helped me do what's right. 
In life it has befriended me — 

And, comrades, when I'm dead, 
Please twine it 'round my crucifix, 

And place it at my head. 

'Twas from my dear good mother, boys, 

I've learned the beads to say, 
I'm dying, and I need her now, 

But she's so far away. 
Last night I thought she stood by me, 

I even heard her speak, 
I felt her hands so soft and kind, 

I saw her look so meek. 

But I sat up and gazed about, 

No mother could be found, 
For it was just a dream I had, 

While senseless on the ground. 
My hands fell on my rosary, 

I wept, but not in vain, 
The mother of my Jesus came, 

And calmed me in my pain. 

Oh, comrades, bend and hear me now, 

This is my dying word, 
If you but say the rosary, 

Your prayer is surely heard." 
He ceased and fell back on his cot, 

The soldier's life was done, 
God, grant the tired warrior rest, 

For He was Mary's son. 

— E. A. HUGHES, A.B. '23 

Bismarck's Babel 



JT SEEMS A STRANGE COINCIDENCE, indeed, that the fall of a 
great empire should occur in the same place where it was first 
proclaimed. But truth is stranger than fiction, and the emis- 
saries of the various Allied Nations who will shortly gather in 
the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles to dissolve that hegemony of 
Central European states welded together in 1871 in those corri- 
dors emblazoned with toutes les gloires de la France are wit- 
nesses of a scene, a dramatic contrast that History sees not 
twice. With the shades of Richelieu, and the Grand Monarch, 
and the Destroyer of the Holy Roman Empire looking down upon 
them, their thoughts cannot but return to that day when the 
Teutonic chieftains under the self-same sanctuaries of hallowed 
memories raised their heroic leader on their shields, as it were, 
and 'mid clash of arms and blare of trumpet, acclaimed him kaiser of a re- 
united Germany. The stage will not have changed — but the role of the 
actors, how different! Then "Le roi gouverne par lui-meme" shone in- 
scribed on the ceiling of the Salle des Glaces, and as the newly-created em- 
peror turned from the altar to a platform at the end of the hall where 
waved a dense and variegated bower of regimental colors which had led the 
way to victory at Worth, Gravelotte, at Beaumont, and at Sedan, there 
stood on his left the embodiment of that regal principle "looking pale, but 
calm and self-possessed," the proudest man in the assembly — a mighty 
artificer in the Vulcan smithy of the nations — the one subject who standing 
in his boots, overtopped the emperor when standing tiptoe on the steps of 
the imperial throne. It was the proudest day of his existence, for he was 
witnessing the consummation of his life's work. Today the emblem 
of democracy replaces the ancient motto of the Bourbons, Bona- 
partists and Hohenzollerns, and the vast autocratic structure has crumbled ! 
As we gaze upon the ruins of this second tower of Babel, the remembrance 
of that chief architect steals upon us. His presence may be as unwelcome 
as the ghost of the dead Banquo, yet his life's work and the fundamental 
error upon which his political system was based cannot but prove an in- 
structive and useful lesson. 

BISMARCK— OTTO VON BISMARCK ! The very name is suggestive of 
a Colossus — a continent of humanity, a big, but not a great man, if 
we are to believe Mr. Gladstone ; a statesman whose religion is his Father- 
land; an amiable barbarian according to Thiers — the man who made Ger- 
many great and the German little. A man of action, every inch of him, 
"an honest broker," to use his own phrase, in the game of European poli- 


tics, yet a Junker skilled in all the fine arts of Beezlebub when there is ques- 
tion of an end to be attained; a disciple of Thor of the thunder-hammer 
when that same end was to be achieved by force. In those watchful eyes 
that gleamed like round-mouthed cannon at the embrasure of a massive 
keep, beneath his shaggy eyebrows — what determination is expressed! 
The student who pulls his shoemaker's bell till his shoes are delivered — the 
ambassador who when challenged to a duel next morning at Frankfort pro- 
duces his pistols, asking "Why delay till then ?" — the chancellor who makes 
his way through the Prussian mob, revolver in hand — all spell Bismarck! 
His versatility, how wonderful! The man that insults the British ambas- 
sador by declaring "Attila greater than John Bright "can so charm Gen- 
eral Grant with his suavity that he declares him the most interesting con- 
versationalist he has ever met. His phrases, how characteristic of his pol- 
icy, "Man of Blood and Iron" which has passed into the worldlore of Eu- 
rope as have his "Do ut des," "Beati possidentes," and "We shall not go to 
Canossa." His life's work — of that we must speak — at length. 

BORN INTO A GERMANY that was a mosaic of states, Bismarck had 
but one compass — one solitary polar by which to steer his policy. He 
was a man of one idea, and that was the unification of these states with 
Prussia at their head. His principle, to what shall we liken it ? When Cecil 
Rhodes, the Colossus of Africa, was setting out to make the Dark Continent 
red from "Cape to Cairo," he said to a friend, in parting: "Do you want 
to know my idea? I will give it to you in a nutshell: In place of salvation, 
put empire, and there you have it." How similar Bismarck's "I follow cut 
a plan with a perfectly calm conscience which I consider useful to my coun- 
try and to Germany." He himself explained his opportunist theory of poli- 
tics by the analogy of a hunter — and a veritable Nimrod he was all his 
days. He said: "From early life I have been a huntsman and a fisherman, 
and the waiting for the right moment is the rule which I have introduced 
into politics. Politics are not logic, are not an exact science, but the abil- 
ity to select the most reasonable, least dangerous course in every changing 
moment of the situation. The god of battles shaking the iron dice of des- 
tiny was for him the god of expediency — the god of might, not of right. 
Where the good of the state was concerned there could be no question of 
wrong. The national welfare was for him a sanctuary where all other laws 
save those of the state ceased. It was Grattan who said of Napoleon that 
"He tried to make the Almighty an alien in His own dominions." Twere not 
precisely true to apply this saying to Bismarck, for his lust of conquest was 
not as great as that of the Corsican usurper, yet it might be fair to say 
that he tried to make the natural law an ally instead of the criterion of 
the law the state. Witness his Napoleonic outburst in that scene when he 


appeared in the balcony to the thousands who were cheering the news of 
the Prussian victories in a war that he knew to be unjust. A thunderstorm 
burst over Berlin, and his sentences were lost in the crashing peals. Bis- 
marck paused a moment, then as the last reverberation died away, he ex- 
claimed, with uplifted hand, "The heavens themselves fire a salute !" 

ISMARCK'S FIRST APPEARANCE on the political stage was made 
^S as a member of the Frankfort diet in 1847. His unconquerable will 
and staunch royalism at once marked him out as a tower of strength on 
the side of the king. From Frankfurt he was appointed Prussian minister 
to St. Petersburg, and a little later to Paris. All this time he was studying 
the political map of Europe, so that, when in 1862 he was made Prussian 
Prime Minister, no one in Europe knew its affairs better than he. 

William I, being an old soldier, began organizing, as soon as he came to 
the throne, an immense army which so taxed the people in the up-keep that 
the Prussian parliament refused to appropriate the funds, and as William 
was too timid to enforce his plans, he prepared to abdicate when Bismarck 
was recommended to him. Immediately Bismarck took the situation in 
hand, and startled the Prussian parliament by addressing them thus : "It 
is not a matter of votes or majorities, but of blood and iron." 

Needless to say, he organized his army on a greater scale than William 
had planned, and put into practice the most efficient methods of those days. 

By skillful methods and shrewd diplomacy, he moulded the scattered 
remnants of a once great empire into one immense structure. 

First came the provoked war with Denmark, over Schleswig and Hol- 
stein, in which Austria took a part supposedly over the same duchies. He 
made war on Austria, taking Holstein and Schleswig, and just a little before 
the duchy of Laudenburg, and annexed them to Prussia. With the first 
extension of his domains, the Prussian king woke up from his melancholy, 
and picked up the sword of conquest. The next step taken was to form a 
federation of the north German states, with Prussia at their head. De- 
fensive alliances were made with the South German States. 

Bismarck anticipating a war with France, prepared so intensively that 
he was able to begin the war himself by changing a French telegram to 
the German Crown, which was the result of heated controversies between 
France and Prussia over the Spanish succession. 

From the ensuing war, two results were important to Bismarck's plans, 
the unification of Germany into a single empire, and the accession of Al- 
sace and Lorraine. 

It was in the palace at Versailles in January, 1871, that that most 
quaint ceremony took place. A Prussian King was crowned Emperor of 
United Germany in the storied palaces of the French King. 


Was it possible for the boldest imagination to picture a more thorough 
revenge on the traditional foes of Germany? The structure had risen by 
the work of the architect. Standing pale and worn, but calm, by the side 
of his emperor, he exclaimed, "My work is finished, and I am satisfied." 
But who can fathom the depths of the future, for only forty-seven years 
afterward there will meet in that self-same hall at Versailles, an entirely 
different assembly. The German delegation will be there, but for a differ- 
ent end. No clash of arms or martial music will be heard. The slaves shall 
become their own masters, and the structure of Bismarck's toil shall fall on 
the heads of those who built it. 

But, why? Though Bismarck had finished his work, he had not per- 
fected it, for lying unused, forgotten beside it, was the "stone which the 
builders had rejected." That stone which stood for Liberty, Justice and 
Right. Bismarck had finished his Babel, but it had been founded on the 
theory that "Might makes right." Thus the only true foundation of his 
political temple was rejected. So the structure which the architect had 
made his life's work tumbled unceremoniously down on the heads of the 
builders, because neither he nor they had respected the laws of God and 
the Nations. 

Stye (gtimt'a (Btft 

The mother's face was sad ; for none were near 
To clothe the naked limbs or dry the tear, 
Fast quenching in those eyes the light of peace, 
When would mankind's war and bloodshed cease? 

Another Christmas dawns: the Infant blest 

Now smiles to see a peaceful world at rest. 

Men's wars are done, and bloodshed now will cease, 

A present, Jesus, from the Queen of Peace. — R. W 

QHjriBtmais, 13 IB 

CROWNING GLORY marks the Star of Bethlehem, 
A fevered world, groping for the light, 

Emerges from an agony of blood, 
Triumphant in TRUTH. 

Peace victorious, a Nation blest 

With fulsome crown of varied arts 
Guarded by a mighty host, 

Redoubtable in RIGHT. 

Mankind, tempered to true humanity in flames of 
heated strife, 

Attends its destined fortunes, 
In brave expectancy, ever 

Judicious in JUSTICE. 

With added lustre shines the Star of Bethlehem 
Upon the Nations gathered round the crib, 

Three gifts they bring — He is all Three — 

-G. C, A.B. '21 

H. M. S. Otranto 

V. MAHONEY, A.B. '22 

ER THE LAND OF THE FREE and the Home of the Brave." 
The soft Gaelic voices of the little group of mourners min- 
gled with the wild music of the Atlantic around the graves of 
the Otranto dead ! It was an unusual sight, those hardy high- 
landers, headed by the Laird of May's pipers, standing with 
their heads bared to the sharp wind from the sea 
carrying this foreign tune in memory of the young 
American heroes whom they laid to rest by the lit- 
tle church of Kilchoman. The news of the wreck of 
the transport had travelled to the remotest parts of 
the island. To attend the funeral, some of the island- 
ers had driven many miles in their springless, jolt- 
ing box-carts so familiar to tourists in those parts. 
Clad in quaint Highland costume, their dress was in 
harmony with the poetry of their environment. As they lowered the bodies 
into the wide, shallow pits in the cemetery which looked out over the cliff 
to the scene of the disaster mid the weird echoes of their Scotch dirges, they 
mingled the notes of the American anthem while a volley was fired, and the 
flag of the far-away republic tvas unfurled to the breeze. Little wonder 
that Andrew Stevenson's thoughts reverted to former days. As he turned 
his steps homeward from a scene so strange to him as to the other inhabi- 
tants of the island, chapter after chapterof his past life revolved before 
him. Reluctantly, his thoughts strayed back. 

A STRANGER upon entering the massive building on Chicago's busiest 
street would be first impressed with the idea that the form of busi- 
ness conducted inside was a leading one. The big sign on the outside at- 
tested in flaring letters that Parker & Stevenson were brokers, and the 
windows resplendent with gold leaf named their wares. Upon entrance, the 
stranger would be further impressed by the formidable rows of desks and 
scurrying clerks. If he gained access to the private office of the chief of 
the concern, his respect would have amounted to awe, for the voices of the 
clerks were just a trifle softer, their tread a little lighter as they entered 
the sanctum. Today one of the wealthy partners is within. Stevenson is 
sitting at his desk, nervously tapping the polished mahogany with a pencil. 
It is four days since Parker had left for New York to secure a valuable 
contract for the company. A messenger boy enters with a telegram. Ste- 
venson springs to his feet. There is one short line: "Contract landed. 
Come at once. Your signature needed." Stevenson heaved a sigh of relief. 


M$ 3Frirn& ©uprapaa 

T FORTY-SECOND STREET where blatant Broadway 
vaults into flame, 
Burning a brilliant path through sombre gloom 
Like a comet in glorious ascendancy, 
Full often have I wandered there with thee, 
And strolling 'neath the canopy of light 
We meditated on the myriad forms 
Scurrying down the Gay White Way. 

Serene, unmoved, you loomed remote 
Amid the mad carousal of humanity; 
Your countenance fixed in contemplation, 
You scanned the phantom faces — 
Searching, sounding for the measured music 
That marks the heart-throb of the Only City. 

And now you have gone! The raging fire 

Kindled by vain Autocracy, sweeps on, 

Reaping victims for the belly of its Molloch, 

But you will emerge. Unscathed, your soul, 

Passing through this hell on earth, 

Will scale the heights and gaze upon the whole; 

And well may your spirit be proud, 

For you will have known the heart-throb of a world. 

Written in Honor of Emmet Holbrook, A.B. '17, now in France 


Yuletide Stars 


$ N ONE OF THE WINDOWS of a beautiful Fifth Avenue home a 
Service Flag hung. Children were gathered in groups here and 

• there along the avenue, singing Christmas carols, for it was 
Christmas night. And as their young voices gaily pealed forth 
^- and mingled with the cold air of a December night, a light sud- 

denly came behind the little flag in the window and revealed 
two stars. One was just a plain ordinary star to show that 
some brave lad had joined the colors; the other one, a golden 
star to show that some noble son had made the supreme sacri- 
fice. Had this flag been endowed with the sense of speech, it would have 
told a vivid tale of the great war which brought much sorrow to the home 
in which it was hung. 



"Norris Sands bounded into his home with a smile of patriotic satisfac- 
tion covering his young face. He had volunteered, and at last had been 
accepted. He kissed his mother, and then, turning to his brother, who was 
seated in a comfortable arm-chair by the blazing fire, he said: 

"Jack, why don't you volunteer? You are old enough, and I am sure 
that you will be accepted." 

"0 !" replied Jack, "the draft will get me soon enough, and until then, 
I suppose that I can wait." 

"You are a slacker," replied Norris, "and, think of it, the family name 
will be ruined by you. Every boy in the country is wild to get into this fight 
and give the kaiser what he needs ; and you, my own brother, and a Sands, 
refuse to volunteer ! The whole town will hear of this soon, and you will 
be disgraced !" And then he walked briskly out of the room. 

That night at the club, both boys were present. It was a Christmas 
affair, chiefly gotten up by the members to see how many stars were to 
be on the Club's Service Flag. Just before it was time to go home there 
were one hundred and ninety-nine members of the club who had volun- 
teered for the service. 

"Only one more to make it two hundred!" cried one of the boys. 
'Who'll be the lucky one?" 

Jack was seated in a large arm-chair, in a far corner of the hall. He 
seemed deeply interested in a newspaper which he held, and seemed totally 
unconscious of the affair that was taking place. 

"Will the gentleman who is reading the paper be so kind as to step 
forward and volunteer?" cried the same voice. 


Jack put the paper aside, and looked at the crowd. He knew that their 
eyes had been on him since he entered. And he knew that they had good 
reasons for their actions. After all, he thought, a man doesn't necessarily 
have to volunteer unless he wishes to. And then, again, he thought of that 
little reason he had. So he made up his mind that he'd put it off again. 

"No !" he answered, "not tonight, pals ; some day I'll go." 

THEY ALL GATHERED AROUND HIM and tried to persuade him, but 
Jack had said "No," and whenever he said that word he generally 
meant it. So he left the club briskly, amid the cries of his companions, who 
were shouting "Slacker! Slacker!" 

Those words stung him deeply, and all the way home he thought of 
those boys with whom he had always associated, and of what they had 
said. But he would make them change that word some day, if it cost him 
his life. 

His brother Norris left the club in an entirely different mood from 
what he had. When the fellows heard that he was to leave for camp on the 
next day, they gave cheers for him, and thus called back to his mind his 
happy college days. He left the club and went home happy with the thought 
that he was soon to be in the service of Uncle Sam ; but, at the same time, 
he felt blue over the thought that he had a brother who was a slacker. The 
next morning, Norris left for camp. 

Everywhere Jack was looked upon as a slacker, and people feared not to 
tell him ; but his own brother had called his a slacker, so what better could 
he expect from others? Everywhere he went, that awful name followed 
him ! He was welcome nowhere. 

His poor mother was heart-broken over the affair. She tried to smooth 
the matter over by saying that he had bought innumerable Liberty Bonds, 
Thrift Stamps, etc., but that was not enough to convince the public, for 
they are loud in their criticisms. Many wealthy Germans had bought them, 
too. Her son had been seen more than once with Hulda Grotch. Her father 
had bought them, and yet he was suspected of being a German sympathizer. 

cers' Training Camp he had worked hard, and as a reward he had 
got a commission as First Lieutenant, and the coveted silver bar which he 
had so long hoped and prayed for, adorned his broad shoulders. The news 
of his commission spread like wild-fire in his home town. Still, while that 
was all very good, it did not save his brother from being a slacker. 

It was a cold, frosty night in the trenches. Khaki-clad Sammies and 
our friend "Tommy" were lined up side by side. And while their faces 


were cold and pinched from the cold of a winter's night, still there was that 
longing look upon them, to go over into "No Man's Land" and get even 
with Fritz for the treacherous deeds he had committed. They were all 
lined close to the fire-step. They had received orders to go "over the top" 
as soon as the word was passed along the line. When that time would 
come, they knew not, but whenever it did come, they would be ready. 

It was an exceedingly dark night in "No Man's Land." The only lights 
that shone there were the stars and the lights from the bursting shells. It 
was even so dark that a careful spy might come from one trench to an- 
other. And, extraordinary as it may seem, this happened on this night. 

Between the flashes of light given by the bursting shells, a German 
had managed to crawl from his trench out into "No Man's Land," crawl 
silently over to our trench and grab our flag. Like a streak of lightning, 
he ran back in the direction of his trenches, while a volley of shells from 
our men whizzed around him. 

Just then, with orders from no one, an American soldier bounded over 
the top. 

"I'll save the flag, comrades!" he cried. "They might get me, but, 
boys, I'll save it !" 

"Follow that man!" commanded the captain, and Lieutenant Norris 
Sands went out into "No Man's Land" in search of the fleeing German and 
his pursuer. 

By the light from a bursting star shell, Sands could see the Stars and 
Stripes still flying on — on toward the German trenches. Then suddenly 
they seemed to stop moving. 

"Bam ! Ping ! Bang !" went the report of a revolver. From their 
light he could see for the moment the huge Hun and the American tusseling 
with each other. Then perplexing questions were placed before his mind. 
Should he shoot or not? Would he kill the Hun, or would he hit his own 
comrade? So, crazed with these questions and a sense of doing his duty, 
he anxiously awaited a good opportunity, then fired. 

"Bam !" went the report of his gun. 

At that same instant a volley of shells were fired from the German 
trenches, and both the Hun and the American fell to the ground. 

Then Sands, after having recovered himself a little crawled to the spot 
where the two bodies lay. A smile covered his face. The big Hun lay there 
with a bullet through his head. He had fallen with his back to the Amer- 
ican trenches. Sands had fired from that direction, and his bullet had pro- 
duced the desired effect. Then, looking over at the other body, he gasped 
for breath, for he saw before him the body of his dying brother. 

"Thank God," he cried, "I knew it was in you, Jack !" 


JACK WAS LYING ON THE GROUND. A bullet from the German 
trenches had pierced his heart. He had the flag pressed tightly to 
where his life's blood was slowly oozing out. Then between his dying 
breaths, he said: 

"Your little brother is no slacker, is he, Norry ? Tell the boys at home 
how I died. Tell them, Norry — tell — them," he said, gasping for breath, 
"tell them that I'm not a slacker. No, no, I'm not !" 

Then he gave one longing look in the direction of the trenches he loved 
so well, and died in his brother's arms. 

Many of the Americans had come from the trenches now, and formed 
in groups around the body of the dead hero. Then tenderly wrapped his 
body in the flag he loved so dearly, and brought it back to the trenches. 
The next day a Cross of Bravery was placed upon him, and he was buried 
in a quiet little cemetery behind the lines. 

of the brave incident. And one night at the club he also told it. And 
when he had finished, one of the boys said: 

"And I'll tell you boys the reason he didn't volunteer sooner than he 
did," he began. "Jack always liked Hulda Grotch. One evening after she 
had heard that he was going to volunteer. She begged him not to, telling 
him that she was in extreme danger. She told him to come to her home 
that night and she would tell him all. 

"That night at her home she revealed many startling facts to him. She 
told him of her father's dealings with Von Papen and many other German 
leaders ; and, foremost of all, that her father had been chosen to see that 
the big transport in the harbor would never land on the other side. For 
further instructions, he was told to report at the cafe that night. 

"Jack went to the cafe before the conspirators arrived, and concealed 
himself behind some palms. He impatiently awaited their coming. After 
a short time, Hulda and her father entered, and shortly after them Von 
Papen. After they were seated, Von Papen told Grotch of how he was to 
warn the sub by signals of light, and he also mentioned the dreadful conse- 
quences that would follow if he failed. They shook each other's hand, and 
Grotch left the cafe, entered his limousine and drove off at a good speed. 

"On arriving at the beach, he alighted from his car, took out his box 
of tools, and went to the front wheel of the car, took the tire off, and began 
to pretend that he was repairing a puncture. Then he looked around in all 
directions to see if anyone was near. When he was fully convinced that no 
one was near, he began to flash his light out into the water. First to left, 
then to right. He kept this up for about five minutes, looking around be- 


tween flashes. After a few minutes more, a huge submarine rose out of 
the water, and he began sending them a message by different movements 
of the light on the water. He spelt: 

" 'Transport with five thousand American soldiers to sail via — ' 

Then suddenly, before he had time to finish the sentence, a hand from 
behind grabbed him by the neck and hurled him to the ground. 

'Up!' cried the voice of young Jack Sands. 'Signal to that sub that 
the transport is to sail in two weeks, via .' 

"Grotch crouched at his feet and begged him to let him take his car 
And go back to town without sending any message. Jack then drew his 
pistol, seeing that a little persuasion was necessary. 

"Grotch sprang to his feet and tried to make a dash for liberty, but 
Jack was too quick for him. In a moment he had Grotch to the ground, 
with his pistol pointed to his head. He was about to take the life of the 
man, when suddenly the words, 'Don't harm him if you can help it !' flashed 
before his mind. Then he remembered the note which Hulda had slipped 
into his coat pocket as he passed her table in the cafe. Then he took his 
pistol's point from Grotch's head. 

" 'I'll do it,' cried Grotch, 'if you will let me up, but think of what my 
failure will mean to my darling little Hulda !' 

" 'You just flash that light and fool that sub, and I'll take good care 
of Hulda.' 

" T cannot betray the Fatherland,' retorted Grotch, 'and I will not. Re- 
member that you have promised to take good care of Hulda.' Then he 
pulled a revolver from his pocket, pointed it to his head, and fell to the 

ground, with these words, 'Remember, you're to take care of ,' and then 

he expired. 

"Jack hod no time to lose. He knew that the crew of the sub were im- 
patiently waiting for further signals. Going over to the body of Grotch, he 
searched his clothes, and, thanks to Fate, he found in his coat pocket the 
code which he used to warn the sub. So he immediately sent the following 

" 'American transport to leave in two weeks via '. Then he saw 

the sub slowly submerge. 

"So, you see, fellows," continued the boy, "Jack Sands had a good 
reason for not volunteering before he did, and he was a slacker by no' 

The snow began to fall thick and fast now, the chimes from the big 
Cathedral began to peal out in loud tones, "Adeste Fideles," the children 
stopped singing their Christmas carols, and the light was extinguished be- 
hind the little Service Flag. 


Sljou Art ifegnnii 

HASTE HEART, when siren passion lureth me 

To slippery steeps, with wooing cadence fond, 
Remind me, ere its fateful ecstasy, 
Thou art beyond. 

Poor Heart, although the World's Elysian call 
My restless feet draw eager to respond, 

I know that garish glamor is not all — 
Thou art beyond. 

Meek Heart, when wake's Ambition's slumbering flame 

To burn asunder erst beloved bond, 
E'en tho 'tis hard rebellious thought to tame, 

Thou art beyond. — G. A. 


"Sergt. Wright Reports" 


T WAS IN THE DAYS OF UNREST following the advent of peace, 
when the civilized world held its breath in suspense, fearing that 
the Hun, apparently quelled, would break forth again with the 
same maniacal fierceness that had plunged the whole world into 
the chaos from which it had just been delivered. 

The City of Berlin was in favor of excitement, People of all 
classes thronged the streets ; the whole city was in a turmoil. Half- 
hearted, half-starved commoners stared dully at troops of the 
Allies, who were pouring into the city, and at whom, but a few 
months before, they would have shouted open defiance. 

Sergeant Stephen Wright, of the Intelligence Department, U. 
S. A., was among the first of the cheering crowds of soldiers that 
were making all haste to see the city that had been the goal for 
which they had been striving during the last two years. 
Sergeant Wright was a valuable man, and one whom Lieutenant Mead 
had found indispensable to him. He made his way about in wide-eyed won- 
der at the sights in the city of which he had heard so much. The idea of 
fearing for his own safety never occurred to him, although reasons were 
not wanting. For had he not been instrumental in shattering the plans of 
an order of Socialists, whose ideas, had they been carried out, would have 
spelled death for many citizens of Paris, and would have cast a spell of 
gloom over the entire Allied nations? Had he not been a means of pre- 
venting an Armenian massacre by discovering and imprisoning the origi- 
nator of the plot, who happened to be a Turk of high rank in Constanti- 
nople ? And, lastly, would not many German spies have kept their identity 
and their intentions a secret, and arrived in America in safety, had they 
not been approached on Ellis Island and taken into custody by Secret Ser- 
vice men with Wright's cablegrams in their pockets? 

STEPHEN WRIGHT reflected jubilantly on these things, as he strolled 
along the streets of Berlin. So engrossed was he in his thoughts that 
he paid little attention whither his steps were leading him. He awoke with 
a start from his day-dream to find himself among the slums of the city. 
As it was getting late, he turned, and began to retrace his steps. He had 
walked a few blocks, when he became aware that someone was dogging his 
footsteps with stubborn persistence. Determining to shake off his pur- 
suer, he broke into a run and dodged around a corner. The person behind 
him also quickened his steps. Wright turned squarely around, with the 
determination to put a stop to this proceeding. As he did so, he was stunned 


by a crashing blow from behind. The air became full of flashing lights 
and grotesque shapes — his knees gave way, and he sank to the ground. 

Wright had no idea how much time had elapsed between them, and 
when he awoke, with a dull, throbbing in his head and the rank odor of 
stale vegetables assailing his nostrils, as near as his dulled brain could per- 
ceive, he was in a small room, which, by its dampness and chill, he judged 
to be underground. 

He had been conscious for only a short while, when a burly youth about 
eighteen years old entered. 

"I say," called Wright. A guttural grunt was his only reward. "Where 
am I?" Wright asked, curiously. The answer was a stream of rapid Ger- 
man, which Wright translated to mean that he was in the cellar of Herr 
SchlegeFs grocery store. 

"And who," queried Stephen, "might Herr Schlegel be ?" 

Another grunt, and his visitor had gone. 

WRIGHT LAY ON THE COLD FLOOR and tried to collect his senses. 
The fact that some sort of crude revenge for his doings in the past 
days dawned slowly upon him. He felt his strength returning, and his 
next thought, naturally, was of escape. While thus pondering, he dozed off 
and awoke only when the thin sunlight that had filtered through the soli- 
tary window had been replaced by the cold gleam of the moon. Footsteps 
were approaching again, and he quickly resolved to try to overpower this 
overgrown boy and make good his escape. He grasped a small stool, the 
cellar's only ornament, and took his stand behind the door. It swung open, 
a figure entered, and he brought down his heavy weapon squarely upon 
the intruder's head. It was only when his victim had crumpled and fell 
heavily to the floor that he saw it was not his acquaintance, but, if a full 
uniform could be taken as evidence, a Lieutenant in the Army of the United 
States! He peered at the prostrate form and weirdly contorted face, but 
he did not remember having ever seen him before. His next move was to 
go through the pockets of the unconscious man. An ejaculation of dismay 
escaped his lips, as he brought into the pale light a commission as First 
Lieutenant in the American Army. By this he ascertained that the unfor- 
tunate recipient of his attentions was Lieutenant Edward Taylor, a man of 
whom he had heard much, but had never seen. He replaced the commis- 
sion papers and looked through the other pockets. His amazement was 
mixed with elation by the sight that next met his eyes. According to his 
labored translation these papers were a well-ordered plot to imperil the 
safety of the victorious American troops as they retraced the frontier! 
Wright reflected a moment and then muttering something about the 
ubiquity of German spies, turned and ran to the door. To close it and lock 


it on the outside was the work of a second. He then raced up a flight of 
narrow steps, opened a door and burst into the room inside. Sighting a 
door leading to the street, he ran for it. He was delayed but temporarily 
by the burly German, whom he had seen before, and whom one blow be- 
tween the eyes sent sprawling into a corner. To his shouts Wright paid no 
heed, but rushed out into the street. He found, to his dismay, outside that 
the American Army had evacuated the city. To make his escape and fore- 
warn the General of his danger was a problem, as barricades were being 
set at all the egresses from the city. His dismay was increased when later 
in the day he read a sign, posted near the chief sentries — 


As the placard was signed by a German name, he knew that he had 
been in the hands of the revolutionists, and that they knew of him possess- 
ing the evidence of their designs. As time was an all-important element 
toward the success of his project, his plans were soon formed. 

TOWARD DUSK a mounted soldier was seen galloping toward one of the 
barricades. He was clad in the uniform of the Prussian guard, and, 
judging by the speed to which he urged his horse, his mission was evidently 
an urgent one. It was not till he had reached the barricade that he reined 
his steed. "Did you allow that carriage to go through?" A carriage had 
passed but five minutes previously. "Yes," answered the chief of the guard, 
"But we examined it carefully. It contained no one save the driver, and he 
assured us that he was but returning to his home in the country." The 
soldier swore a great oath. "The American has escaped in spite of your 
vigilance ! There was a secret apartment in that car. Make way, you curs ! 
There is not a moment to lose if I should capture him." Brandishing his 
sword aloft in a manner that would have excited the envy of any true 
Junker, the mounted soldier passed through the cordon. 


OME FEW DAYS LATER Lieutenant Mead was sitting in what had 
been the parlor of a German aristocrat in Potsdam, and was absorbed 
in thought. "You say, Jones, that you have not seen him for three days?" 
he asked. "Yes, sir; and no one has seen him since then." 

Lieutenant Mead sat meditating, and raised his head only when a dis- 
heveled, breathless, jackbooted individual entered, clad in the uniform of 
the Prussian guard, and bringing his hand smartly to salute, said, "Sir, Ser- 
geant Wright reports." 

A Ijrralit nf |tear? 

! ON MY WINDOW-SILL, a gentle dove of the valley 

Taps, with her lightsome wing, as soft as a whisper of willow; 
Nay, the light of the dove, as soft as a mother's endearment, 
Fills the vale of the soul with the calm and peace of her grace-flood. 

Bird, thy soft return is reminder of smile of the flowers, 
Flowers that hide in their grain in the winter, under the snow-flake, 
Then, after sleeping alone, aye, sleeping, not dying forever, 
Rise again with the dawn of May, all verdant and smiling. 
Driving for aye to the sea the shadows of night and of sorrow. 
Fairy, thou art a spray of a higher and holier Season, 
Lovelier Summer beyond, where the world's wild winter is over, 
Where, from the chill world free, and far from the depths and the 

Dovelets linger in light around the brow of the Savior. 

Type of the Spirit of Light, the Spirit of Peace and of Sunshine, 
Rise we with thee o'er the fens, o'er the dells and dunes of the soul- 
Rise above the hills, the rocks and ridges of Sorrow, 
Rise to soar, as blithe as thou, on pinions aerial, 
Till, in hope and love, we rest on the door of the Great Deep, 
Aye, and enter one day, to live in Light beyond measure, 
Live in the Spirit that took thy shape on the shore of the Jordan, 
See Him, as He is, and drink of the Fountain of Glory. 
There, in the Infinite Deep, we'll join the myriad angels, 
Hovering, halo-crowned, crying, "Holy, Holy Holy," 
Joyous, on wings of the dove, in the joy of the Face-to-face Vision! 

—A. C. M. 

Told at Mess 

Britain had obtained full and complete control of her East Indian 
possessions, it was necessary to maintain a large standing army in 
Hindustan, to insure the safety of the Caucasian population, safe- 
guard the rights of the kind and to combat the native uprisings 
which were of frequent occurrence. Continuous and savage wars 
were of annual occurrence until 1857, when the power of the native 
princes was finally broken in the bloody revolt of that year. 

It became imperative to support strongly fortified though iso- 
lated posts throughout the empire, especially in the foothills of the 
Himalayan mountains. From time to time various punitive expedi- 
tions were forced to scour the foothills for marauding parties which the 
smaller posts could not reach. It is with one of these expeditions that our 
story has to deal. 

THE INDIAN SUN was just peeping over the horizon on a sultry sum- 
mer morn. The British column, which had been marching through 
a narrow, rocky defile, was struggling eagerly over the rough, rock-strewn 
way in anticipation of the breakfast which would follow upon the next halt. 
Even the artillery horses in the rear seemed to absorb the temper of the 
men, and tugged willingly at the heavy guns. 

The column was in charge of Sir Hugh Rose, a veteran of many Indian 
wars, and a man who fully realized the dangerous position in which his 
command was placed. Word was now brought in by the advance guards 
that a large body of native troops were encamped on the plains into which 
the defile debouched about a mile ahead. 

General Rose was in a dilemma: to go back would mean a march of 
many hours, and a probable chance that he would miss the marauding 
party which he had been sent after, to advance and risk an engagement 
with a force larger than his own would be staking his army and the safety 
of a province at one cast of the dice. 

However, quickly deciding that his troops were the equals of twice the 
number of natives that confronted him, Rose pushed forward and deployed 
upon the plain just as the alarm was given in the native camp. 

The natives proved to be the Sikhs, members of one of the most war- 
like tribes along the border. Confident in their numbers and undaunted at 
the leaden fire which poured in upon them from the English ranks, the 
Sikh horsemen charged down upon their foe. Again and again hurled their 
finest cavalry at the British; time after time the shattered Sikh dashed 
back in mad flight to their own lines. 


Rose cautiously held back a reserve until the critical moment when he 
intended to use every man in an effort to win the day. 

On the left was stationed as a reserve, a battalion of artillery under 
command of Major Thomas O'Neal, a hot-headed, hard-fisted soldier, a vet- 
eran of many wars, and a man of noble character, and high in the confi- 
dence of General Rose and the Indian Government. His orders were most 
imperative: under no circumstances was he to open fire or move his com- 
mand until the time was ripe and the order given by Rose himself. Such 
an order to a man of his nature was extremely galling. He felt slighted, felt 
as though he was not worthy for the combat, as if he was not to be trusted, 
though he knew the high confidence placed in him by his superiors. Even 
so, to be out of the action and yet in such close proximity to it seemed more 
than his Irish heart could stand. 

As O'Neal gloomily watched the struggle, the course of which was very 
far from favorable, a Sikh chieftain observing the inaction of the batteries, 
dashed boldly up to within a hundred paces of their front, and, spitting on 
the ground, cursed them bitterly and blasphemously, and hurled at them 
that epithet which followers of Mohammed delight to apply to all followers 
of Christ. 

"Curse you !" he cried, "for the Christian dogs that you are." 
This was the spark that set off the powder keg of the officer's anger. 
Throwing prudence and obedience to the winds, he spurred forward and 
charged straight into the Shiek at full gallop. Snatching the native from 
his horse, he flung him upon the ground, and trampled his horse upon the 
prostrate man. 

The moment the action was done, O'Neal realized what a military crime 
he had committed. He, one of Her Majesty's officers, had openly disobeyed 
orders in the presence of the enemy — he had disgraced himself and his 
regiment; he had openly dragged his highly-flaunted personal honor 
through the mire and ignominy of military crime. 

SUCH WERE THE THOUGHTS that passed through his mind as he 
rode back to his command and saluted the grim-faced old Colonel, 
whose order was brief and stern. 

"Major O'Neal, sir, you will retire to the rear under guard, and con- 
sider yourself under arrest. The action will be lost or won without you.'' 

Without reply, the crushed and broken officer gave up his sabre and 
followed by the guard, silently retreated to his tent in the rear, which had 
just been put up for him. 

The struggle was now reaching a crisis. On both sides every reserve 
was thrown into the fray. The British cannons bellowed and roared out 


their message of death. From the ranks of red a terrible musketry fire 
poured into the ranks of whites. But in spite of its awful effects, the fear- 
less Sikh horseman charged down upon the solid British square, leaping 
their horses over the fixed bayonet of the infantrymen, and playing havoc 
with their long sabres. 

The command of O'Neal's battalion had devolved upon a subordinate, 
who was in no manner competent to command the force under circum- 
stances. Confused and befuddled by the noise of battle and the shouts of 
the combatants, he placed his command in such a position that it was worse 
than useless to his own army. Every shot went over the enemy's head, 
while at the same time each salvo prevented the contemplated advance of 
the British. 

BACK IN HIS TENT, O'Neal watched the progress of the conflict with 
ever-increasing anxiety. With black rage in his heart, he saw his con- 
fused subordinate ruining what chances of success the army had. The more 
desperate the situation became, the more furious the officer cursed the stu- 
pidity of artillery officers in general, and of one Smith in particular. 

At last, he could stand the strain no longer. Snatching up a camp- 
stool, he waited until the sentinel passed the door of the tent, and struck 
him a terrific blow on the head, and dashed straight out over the field at a 
dead run toward his batteries. When he reached his command, a pitiful 
sight met his eyes. Half of his gunners were gone, the remaining men 
covered with blood, and the majority bleeding from severe wounds, served 
their pieces desperately and endeavored to rectify some of the consequences 
of their Captain's errors — Smith stood gazing upon the scene of havoc and 
chaos, hardly knowing how to go about restoring the situation into which 
he had plunged not only his own command, but the entire British force. As 
the remaining artillerymen caught sight of their returning chief, they sent 
up a cheer that startled even the enemy across the battlefield. Jerking off 
his coat, O'Neal gave a few curt commands, wheeled his guns into a new 
position and opened up on the heretofore victorious natives. Salvo after 
salvo tore through the Hindu ranks, with terrible effect. Charge after 
charge of the gallant native horseman was broken up with awful precision. 

The final issue was now at hand. The army knew it. The natives 
knew it and steeled themselves for one last effort. General Rose decided 
to risk all on one desperate charge. At the word of command the thin red 
line sprang up, and with a wild cheer surged down upon the broken Sikh 
lines. Torn by artillery fire, and seeing the forest of glittering steel flash- 
ing down upon them, the demoralized natives broke and fled. 

The battle was now practically over. The guns were silenced, and the 


exhausted infantry halted in their tracks, after a chase of half a mile. 
The cavalry alone pursued the horde of fugitives. 

The moment that the action ceased, Major O'Neal gave up his com- 
mand, and, covered from head to foot with powder, smoke and blood, made 
his way to Sir Hugh Rose and gave himself up. The General commended 
him warmly for his gallant action, and he stated he deeply regretted the 
necessity which forced him to keep such a brave officer in arrest, and, even- 
tually, to court-martial him. 

TWO WEEKS LATER, a solemn scene took place in Calcutta, at the 
great headquarters of the British army in India. A sentence of death 
was being read to Major O'Neal of Her Majesty's 57th Light Artillery. The 
president of the court-martial read the document in a solemn tone, and 
when he finished, handed it to General Rose, who, sitting down at his desk, 
wrote across the margin, "Recommended for mercy," and fastened a paper 
to the death warrant, stating the circumstances of the case in full. 

"O'Neal," he said, "you are a brave and gallant man, and your country 
needs you. The warrant needs the Queen's signature before it can be car- 
ried out. Rest assured that I shall use all influence to obtain your release 
and restoration to rank. That is all, sir." 

He nodded to the grim-faced prisoner, who left the room with head 
erect and with calm composure, but with the despair of a brave man in his 

The warrant must have the Queen's signature, and on that rose his 
hopes for the officer's release. He had most strongly recommended the 
officer and praised his action in glowing terms. He could wait until an 
answer was received. 

The time dragged by on leaden feet. Day after day passed, and the 
strain began to tell on even O'Neal's iron nerves. 

Finally, one morning when Rose reached his office he found a cable- 
gram awaiting him. The message was brief and to the point — 

"Release Major O'Neal and order home at once. 
"(Signed): VICTORIA." 

There's but little more to add. O'Neal was offered a peerage or the 
post of Chief Civil Engineer of Great Britain, by the Queen. 

He chose the latter, and for many years filled a position which he had 
won upon that hard-fought and never-to-be-forgotten field of Sobraun. 



w *» 

Hold 'ent Spring Hill ! 

Robirusort coming thru. 

The Poet of Ukraine 

NASMUCH AS ONE of the many international questions which 
have come into prominence during the last few years, and 
which must be settled at the coming Peace Conference is that 
concerning the future political status of Ukraine, the intelligent 
American citizen will find an acquaintance with the national 
spirit of the Ukrainians useful, if not really indispensable. The 
reader, no doubt, has at least recently learned that in the 
southern part of what was once the Russian Empire, there lives 
a people which for centuries has been struggling for its right- 
ful place in the fraternity of nations — a people that in lan- 
guage, customs, and anthropological characteristics is as dis- 
tinct from Russians, Poles and other Slavonic groups as are 
the Czechs from the Lithuanians. The thirty-five million Christian souls 
which constitute this people call themselves Ukranians, and their country 
of 850,000 sq. km., Ukraine. Since the Ukrainian national spirit can in no 
way be more briefly set forth than by giving a biographical sketch of Taras 
Shevchenko, the greatest and most beloved hero of the Ukranian people, 
this rather strange course is here adopted. Justification for the taking of 
this liberty is felt in the fact that Shevchenko's life and works exemplify 
almost perfectly the ideals, aspirations, sufferings, and temperament of the 
Ukranian nation — the second largest and probably the purest branch of 
the Slavonic race. 

TARAS SHEVCHENKO, the greatest poet in Ukranian and perhaps 
in all Slavonic literature, was born the son of a peasant-serf on the 
25th of February, 1814 (0. S.), in Morin, a little hamlet in the district of 
Kiev. One year later his father moved to the neighboring village of Kiriliw, 
where Taras, at the age of eight, was sent to the parochial school to study 
grammar and the Psalter. In 1823 he lost his mother, who alone could give, 
him the unselfish love of which he was so much in need during his later 
years of sorrow and want. Barely ten months had elapsed after the death 
of his mother when his father married again to a widow whose only pos- 
sessions were three spoiled children and a despotic and very quarrelsome 
disposition. This second marriage proved to be a very unfortunate one, 
and Taras' life became most miserable. His step-mother always vented 
her spleen upon the poor lad, who won her disfavor by frequently thrash- 
ing her petted and insolent son, Stephen. His father died in 1825, and 
Taras was now a helpless orphan in a country where the Ukrainian serf 
was treated with a brutality that knew no mercy. A relative offered him 
work on a hog farm, but feeding hogs was an occupation which did not 


appeal to Taras' poetic taste. The little Ukrainian serf took his tablet, ink- 
stand and Psalter and went to a parish teacher, who, feeling pity for the 
boy, gave him a place in his home. Here Taras was a servant and student, 
and as he himself said, his practical life began. His lot in this new home 
was worse than that of a slave ; he had to attend to the slightest and often 
most unreasonable wants of not only his master, who was given to excessive 
drinking, but also of his master's friends and family. Toward the end of 
his stay with this teacher, Taras was often sent to read the Psalter at a 
wake, for which service he sometimes received a reward in the form of a 
small coin or some other trifling gift. Every time Taras took the teach- 
er's place at a wake, the instructor saw an excellent opportunity to get 
drunk; in fact, whenever the little Psalter reader returned from his mis- 
sion he invariably found his master in the same besotted condition. 

THE CRUELTY of this hopeless inebriate made Taras cunning and re- 
vengeful; he and his fellow-students availed themselves of every 
chance to make things unpleasant for their master. Finally the treatment 
of this drunkard became so unbearable that Taras made up his mind to 
run away. Finding the teacher drunk almost to unconsciousness one day, 
he seized the rod which had been applied so freely to his own back, and 
beat the staggering sot until his boyish arms could beat no more. There 
was an illuminated book which, in his occasional sober moments, the teacher 
regarded very dearly. Taras did not think it was a sin to take this precious 
volume for himself. That night when all had gone to rest, a half-starved 
little lad dressed in a ragged grey frock and a shirt that had not seen wash- 
ing for a long time, and with nothing to protect his feet, stole out of the 
parish teacher's house and set out on the road to a neighboring village. All 
of the boy's possessions were contained in a little bundle which he carried 
under his arm. In the village, Taras soon got work with a man who was a 
painter and a teacher ; but he remained only four days, when he again ran 
away. Prompted by his fierce ambition to become a painter, Taras sought 
work and instruction with painters of neighboring villages. He went to 
one rather famous painter with the determination to endure all hardships, 
pr jvided he was given a chance to learn the art of painting. But the great 
artist looked critically at Taras' left hand and dashed to pieces all of the 
boy's dreams of becoming even a mediocre painter. Taras was told, to his 
bitter disappointment, that he had ability for nothing, not even for shoe- 
making or cooperage. He returned to his native village, and was given 
work as the common shepherd of the town. The luckless lad, however, was 
destined for greater things ; his genius and ambition spurred him on. Once 
more ha tried to find employment with a painter, but this attempt was just 


as unsuccessful as the others. Penniless, friendless, and almost in despair, 
the poor boy nearly gave up all hope of ever becoming a man of art. 

AT THIS TIME, when Taras did not Know what to do with himself, he 
was taken into the service of his German master Engelhardt. His du- 
ties consisted mainly in standing within the call of his master and main- 
taining absolute silence at all times. During his hours of idleness, Taras 
would hum sad Cossack ditties and copy the paintings which decorated the 
walls of his master's dwelling. He sketched — he himself confesses without 
feeling a guilty conscience — with a pencil which he stole from a peddler. 
Taras attended his master to most of the large cities of Russia, and found 
quite a little time for the study of painting and poetry. One evening in 
Vilna, his master went to a ball. When everything was quiet in the house, 
and Taras was alone, he lit a candle in his dingy room and began to copy 
the portrait of a famous Cossack. He had worked for hours, and was com- 
pleting the details, when suddenly he heard the door open behind him. En- 
gelhardt, who had just returned from the ball, entered in great anger and 
excitement ; he seized Taras by the ears, and almost twisted them off. The 
next day Engelhardt ordered one of his servants to give Taras a sound 
thrashing, which duty the servant discharged most faithfully and scrupu- 
lously. The punishment was not for the sketch, at which the master did 
not even glance, but for Taras' carelessness in burning a very short candle 
that could have set fire not only to the building, but even to the whole 
town. For awhile Taras was in St. Petersburg studying decorative paint- 
ing. He spent much of his time in one of the beautiful parks, sketching 
the various statues which adorned the walks, and composing some of his 
minor poems. His talent for art and his diligence as a student finally came 
to the notice of some academic painters, who perceived the bright spark of 
genius in the Ukrainian serf. Through the endeavors of these men, 2500 
rubles were raised in a lottery, and for that sum Taras Shevchenko was 
bought out of bondage on the 22nd day of April, 1838. 


S A FREE, Ukrainian Cossack, Shevchenko now entered the Academy 
■ of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg, where he applied himself industrious- 
ly to the study of painting and poetry. During the next few years he com- 
posed his best and largest poems. In 1840 his Kobzar (Bard) was pub- 
lished. It was a collection of beautiful lyrics, ballads, and dumi (a form of 
poetry which, I think, is peculiar to Ukrainian literature). The sentiment 
which pervades most of these poems is a lament for the lost liberty of 
Ukraine, and for his own unhappy lot in life. His Haydamaki (Robbers) 
followed, one year later. This great work was a kind of epic poem in which 
Shevchenko exposes the atrocities perpetrated by the Poles and Russians. 


Both publications created a sensation throughout the Slavonic world; and 
when in the summer of 1843 Shevchenko went to Ukraine, he was every- 
where acclaimed a famous poet. Returning to St. Petersburg, he completed 
his course in the Academy, and received a diploma. He again went to 
Ukraine, and got a position on an archeographical committee. Traveling 
through his native country, he painted the scenic beauties of his dear 
Ukraine, and composed popular verses that have no equal in the literature 
of any land. On the 5th of April, 1847, he was going from Czernigiv to 
Kiev, he was arrested on a charge of disseminating propaganda against the 
Czar. He was taken to St. Petersburg and confined in prison until June 1, 
1847. Then he was tried, condemned for composing revolutionists poetry, 
and sent an exile into Siberian military service. With a strict injunction 
not to paint or write, Shevchenko was taken to Orenburg, whence he was 
soon after removed to the fortress at Orsk. Shevchenko was moved from 
stronghold to another until the 2nd of May, 1857, when, through the inter- 
cession of influential noblemen, he received an amnesty from the Czar Alex- 
ander II. During his ten years of confinement and exile, Shevchenko was 
forbidden to write in the Ukranian language, but he wrote a little in the 
Russian tongue. What literary masterpieces could have been created by 
this genius during ten of the best years of his life can only be imagined 
from what he has done. The Russian Czars committed a great crime 
against the Ukrainians in stealing ten most productive years from the 
life of their greatest genius. 

SHEVCHENKO spent two years traveling through the large cities of 
Russia and Ukraine, trying to regain his health, and endeavoring to 
forget the bitter moments he spent in exile. About this time he desired 
to many and settle down near his beloved Dnieper — 

"Here to return — and die at home at last." 

He was taken seriously sick in November, 1860 ; and after a prolonged 
illness of three months, broken-hearted, friendless, in a foreign and cruel 
land, he died on the 26th of February, 1861, at the age of forty-seven. One 
month later his body was moved to Ukraine, and on the 6th of May his re- 
mains were laid in their final resting place, in Kaniv, a beautiful village on 
the Dnieper. 

TARAS SHEVCHENKO is the father of modern Ukrainism. His noble 
life of sacrifice for his people has been an example for all true, pa- 
triotic Ukrainians. Born a serf, left an orphan at the age of eleven, given 
little or no opportunity for education, Taras Shevchenko rose from the 


lowest ranks of society to the distinguished position of an immortal poet. 
His works contain little profound reason or abstruse philosophy ; they are 
born of his heart and are the lamentations and complaints of a simple, kind- 
hearted man who loved his people and his country infinitely more than him- 
self. The pitiful condition of the Ukrainian nation had been made vivid to 
him by the treatment he himself received in his youthful days. He knew 
that his fellow-Ukrainians were suffering as he had suffered, but it seemed 
that they dared not give expression to their feelings, or that they had de- 
generated into indifference and no longer felt the pangs of a man who was 
taken from liberty and enslaved. Shevchenko both felt and dared; his 
works show how keenly he felt, and his exile shows us that he dared. He 
paid a heavy price, but his martyrdom was very fruitful; for today the 
Ukrainians are almost restored to the position they held in the early years 
of the middle age. 

ALL THE WORKS of Taras Shevchenko reflect the misery and hopeless- 
ness of his life. His health was completely broken by his imprison- 
ment, his youth was full of misfortune — "Far from my beloved land," says 
the poet — 

"Without love, without happiness, 
Days of youth slipped by 

Nay, they did not slip by ; they dragged by in poverty, in darkness, and 
in abasement." His many reverses in love caused him to have frequent 
recourse to liquor, which, however, only made him feel more dejected. The 
strain of melancholy which runs through his poems is not the melancholy 
of a Russian or German pessimist; it is a noble, sublime melancholy — a 
melancholy which, like that of Edgar Allen Poe, makes us weep for the 
man and love him for the hardships he has endured. We cannot help swell- 
ing with pity for Shevchenko, but we can no more help admiring the great 
man. He loved everyone, but his great love was not returned; therefore, 
he wept, he sorrowed, he suffered, until the cold hand of Fate abruptly cut 
the string of his life. Today the people for whose cause he died not only 
love their noble poet, but almost worship him ; Taras Shevchenko is the 
heart and soul of Ukraine ! 





Born in Tipperary County, Ireland — Died at New Orleans, La., 

October 16, 1918, Age 83 

Thou veteran of many wars, 

Of wars with gleams of victory blending, 
Thy hand at last hath sheathed her sword 

In peace, with vict'ry never ending! 

Thou sturdy Rock, the storms and shocks 
That smote thy mates with rent incurable, 
Rendered thy strength, thy hardened limbs, 
Thy sinew'd character, endurable! 

Self-shaped from stones of Tipperary, 
And set amid the Spring Hill glen, 

Lakes, towers and youth were builded on thee 
Thou corner-stone of self-made men! 

And yet from out thee, Ancient Rock, 

Full streams of kindness poured like foun- 

Tears welled within thy warrior-heart, 
Gold in thy mines, thou rugged Mountain. 

Now, rest thee, free from earthly shackle, 
The Spring Hill chapel guards thy sod, 

Thyself the marble tabernacle, 
Thy glory is within — with God! 

—A. C. M. 

®I)? §>pringfjtlltan 

VOL XL DECEMBER, 1918 No. 2 

loari nf Bttnra— 191B-19 


Edifor-in-Chief: T. HAILS 

Junior Editor: M. BURKE 
HomeNeivs: G. SCHWEGMAN 
Alumni Editor: W. J. RUSSELL S. A. T. C. Note: A. EMRICH 

Exchange Editor: J. KOPECKY Chronicle: A. CROCI 

Associate Editors: J. CRONIN, V. MAHONEY 

Business Manager: 
Ed. A. Strauss 

Advertising Manager: M. VlCKERS Circulation Manager; W. CURREN 

Artist: JOHN FABACHER Athletics: S. REYNAUD 



At all times, since the birth of Christ, it has ever been hard to imagine 
a Christmas when men do not forgive their enemies and give themselves 
over to the peaceful calm of Yuletide. 

On the first Christmas Day, when the stars shone with their cold 
gleam over the little stable in Bethlehem, when there was no sound to dis- 
turb the quiet of the early morning, the sweet voices of the angels sang to 
the affrighted shepherds, "Peace on earth to men of good will," and they 
were no longer afraid, but joyfully sought the Savior of men, and were 
guided by the Star of Bethlehem to the humble birthplace of Our Lord. 

In the year nineteen hundred and eighteen, the great war for humanity 
was still raging with the same fury that had lasted for four years. It 
seemed as if another Christmas would be spent in the atmosphere of hate 
and misery. The cheerful spirit of the day would be marred once more by 
the knowledge that somewhere there was suffering and want. The day 
was but a few weeks off when Peace, crushed to earth, rose, Phoenix-like, 
from the blood-stained earth, and soared, white-winged, over the world. 

And so it is that the same spirit which pervaded the little town of 
Bethlehem covers the earth today and the holly and the olive are twined 


together, forming the wreath that symbolizes "Peace on earth to men of 
good will." 

It is in this spirit that The Springhillian extends to all its friends 
Christmas Greetings, good wishes, and the hope that they may be given to 
share abundantly in this Peace. The halls of The Hague Palace were adorned 
with the statues of the world's great Peacemakers — yet, we omitted that 
of the Author of Peace. May this new Peace Temple, reared in the hearts 
of the Nations, be blest not only by His Image, but may there hover over 
it the Spirit of Him who came to bring Peace to Men. 



"Nihil ex omni parte bonum" is true of everything created, and the 
S. A. T. C. was not to be an exception. With its many advantages, it had, 
as was to be expected, some drawbacks entailed. Perhaps the greatest of 
these was the omission — necessary, you may call it, but still omission for 
all that, of Literature in the College curriculum. While mathematics, the 
sciences, and even philosophy, flourished to a certain degree under the 
regime, the classics were naturally relegated to the background. We do 
not regret that it should have been so, for these were not essential for win- 
ning the war. But now that the war is over and things are supposedly nor- 
mal, we think it but right that special emphasis be placed on those studies 
which were entirely neglected during the past months. Judging from the 
comments made by many Colleges last October, our appeal would not seem 
to be universally popular — but that does not prove it unreasonable. Surely, 
the classics deserve their place in the sun, if we think the matter worthy 
of the consideration of the different colleges. To cripple studies which if 
not essential in war are useful in Peace would detract from the hard-won 
blessings of this glorious year so rightly styled the "Annus Mirabilis" of 
our country's history. 

— T. HAILS, A.B. r 19 


On the Firing Line 


My Dear Father: August 30, 1918 

I received a letter from you a couple of weeks ago, but have not received any 
rrom you since. We were up on the front line for three or four days a little while back, 
and take it from me as the truth, the front line is no joke. It is a very serious matter. 
It is rare for heavy machine guns to go right on the front line, but it happened to be 
our hard luck that we should be made the exception. We did the most good by the moral 
effect that machine guns have on the doughboys, but when you dare not poke your head 
around a corner or above the trench lest you get a bullet from one of the kaiser's snipers, 
it is not so very pleasant. To be shot by a civilized nation's bullet would not be so bad, 
but the Boche uses explosive bullets, and they are worse than dum-dums, and when 
they hit they explode and tear open. Oh, I know what they are, for quite a few were 
shot for me, but no one had my name written on it, because they whistled on past. 

While on the front I was hit several times by shrapnel flying stone, but its force 
had been spent, and none of them broke the skin, but two or three times I would not 
have given ten cents for my life. 

One morning while we were on the front, the Dutchman made a raid on the town, 
and they were loaded to the brim with hand grenades. Of course, things seemed worse 
than they were, but for awhile I thought the place was going to be another Alamo, and 
then we got some reinforcement. When we did get relieved, it seemed like Christmas. 
Then we went back a little piece and stayed there three or four days, and then we were 
ordered back up, but, thank God, it was not for the front line, but to the second line, 
and here we are today. 

Last night Jerry certainly did send his whiz- bangs over to us, and once more J 
thought that I was a goner. They were coming pretty close. If there is one thing that 
Jerry likes to be, it is miserable, for last night he first gave us the sneezing gas, and 
then he puts over his deadly gas, viz: phosgene. We expect to get relieved soon and 
then go back and take a rest. I hope so, because I am all gassed up and feel "mis." 

All of the fellows used to holler: "When do we get to the front? Let's hurry 
up!" but now it is "When do we go back to rest? We have gotten our dose." 

Do you remember Polly Holland? Well, a couple, or I might say quite a few couples 
of the "Prussian clan" came up the street loaded with their famous "potato mashers" 
(maybe you have heard of them), and Mr. Holland gets curious about them, so Mr. 
Fritz makes a few twists and throws one of the aforesaid, and the potato masher and 
"Mr. Holland" make a connection with each other, and the above potato masher makes 
a grave impression on Holland, but it just scratched him up a bit, and caused no serious 

The smell of dead animals and men predominates over everything else. I am so 
used to smelling dead bodies that I don't feel at home if there isn't a dead man or dead 
horse close by, but it is possible to get use to anything. 

We have seen things here that a year ago would have stayed on my mind for weeks. 
Men with their heads crushed flat, eyes shot out, legs shot off, and everything imagin- 
able. Two men, one on each side of me, were shot and dropped dead right at my feet, 
and even that only caused temporary nervousness. 


I found one of the famous German saw bayonets, and if it was not a mean looking 
weapon! Do you remember when I said "I don't believe that I could run a bayonet 
through a man?" Well, I could now, and I would do it mighty quick for some of the 
things that the descendants of Attila have done. I will name a few of the things that 
have occurred right around me. Four of our men were carrying a wounded man on a 
stretcher, and a German shot at them, wounding one of the four litter bearers, and kill- 
ing the wounded man. Do you think you could run a bayonet through a man for such 
cruelty as this? 

Another case was of four of our men bearing a litter with a slightly wounded Ger- 
man on it. His confederates shot at our men and hit one in the leg. This made the 
wounded German sore, so he asked for a rifle. They gave him a rifle, and put a pistol 
to his head. The wounded German shot the rifle twice, and what should come down from 
the tree but two German snipers, and when this German got to the hospital they said 
he did great work there, so there seemed to be one level-minded German, who was put 
out by his brothers' cruelty. 

It is pretty hot here now, and the flies are here by the millions. How is everybody 
at home ? It is difficult to write from where we are now. I just received a letter from 
home a couple of days ago, and will write as often as I possibly can. 

Tell all hello for me, and write soon, with long letters. 

Affectionately, H. C. GRAY 

A, ^k ^k. -A. .jfe. 


Somewhere in France, October 14, 1918 
My Dear Father: Back from the jaws of death, back from the mouth of hell. You 
have often heard that, but you cannot appreciate what it means unless you have really 
been to the mouth of hell. It will drive a man insane, and I will tell you the truth. At 
times I thought that I would go insane. You almost are tempted to commit suicide. It 
is nothing but cannon shells and machine guns continually heard day in and day out. It 
is no wonder that men get shell-shocked and their nerves shattered. It may seem funny 
that a big husky man will shake like a leaf and bawl like a baby, but I have seen many 
a man so broken up that he could not stand on his feet — sometimes I think their nerves 
are cracked in two. 

The last time up we saw many a horrible sight. One morning we were going up 
the road with the infantry in front of us, and the Dutch started throwing over 9-inch 
high explosives (H. E., by the way, burst into big hunks and fly at an awful rate, so 
you know what a two or three pound piece will do if you happen to make contact with 
it). Well, one burst by the roadside. The consequence was, when we passed the place 
a few seconds after, one man, with his head split open and his brains spread all over 
the road — another looked like a piece of beef cut up in a butcher shop; another was 
lying in the road, and his leg was lying three yards from where he was. Others were 
lying on the side of the road, crying in God's name to help them. It was enough to turn 
a heart of stone to plush! But the American dead was far surpassed by the German dead, 
for they were lying dead in bunches, with their "Gott mitt uns" shining in the sun. I 
happened to go through some of the "extinguished" Dutchmen, and on one I found some- 
thing that puzzled me very much. He had a bunch of post-cards with the American 
flag, and such inscriptions under them as "Long may it wave for liberty!" Can you 
fathom that? He could have hardly gotten it off an American, because we were ad- 
vancing. We must have been fighting Bavarians, because most of them had rosary 
beads on their person. It is very seldom that the infantry has to use a bayonet on Fritz. 


He won't let you get close enough on him for that. He hollers "Kamerad" every time. 
One doughboy jumped in a dugout and found eighteen sausage-eaters there. He was so 
surprised that he just stared at them, but they were equally surprised, and up went their 
hands. He came out leading his captives, and I was talking to one of them (they were 
a miserable-looking bunch), and I asked him if he was a Prussian, and he said "Nien, 
Lansturm," so evidently he was a reservist. 

This is the first time I have written in quite awhile, but I could not write while on 
the line, but, thank God, it is over for awhile, and I go to Blighty on a seven-day leave 

As serious as the war is, there is a humorous side sometimes. You should see 
the men scatter like mice when they see one of our tanks rumbling their way, for if 
anything draws fire it is a tank, for as soon as one pokes its nose around they go for 
their holes like a prairie dog. I saw Donergy today. He is safe. 

Father Conaty won the D. S. C, I saw by the paper. I received two letters from 
you lately. I will try to answer them. I hope there is something to this peace talk, 
but we must not count too much on it, and keep up the effort. So long for awhile, till 
we can have some long chat and I can tell you many interesting things. 

Give my love to all. Affectionately, H. C. GRAY 

P. S. — This letter is written by candle-light, and I am writing under difficulties, so 
make it out the best you can. H. G. 

# * # * *■ 


My Dear Father: October 20, 1918 

The war, as far as we are concerned, is over just for the present. We are now at 
Aix Les Bains, the second largest summer resort in France, the largest being Monte 
Carlo. The town is over 2,000 years old, and there are still some relics left there by 
the Romans, and it was at this very place that Hannibal, Attilla the Hun, and Napo- 
leon led their armies across the Alps. From the top of Mt. Revard you can see into 
Italy and Switzerland, and in the distance you can see Mt. Blanc. The Casino at the 
place was the big gaming place for tourists, and it was here that Harry Thaw lost a 
half a million. The Y. M. C. A. has now taken over this Casino, and made a fine recrea- 
tion place out of it. The Y. M. C. A. does all it can to make one's stay pleasant, bring- 
ing us on trips, and explaining everything. 

I am stopnipg at one of the largest hotels here, and my room is fit for a prince, 
and our meals by the best of French chefs, and the best of it is, we don't have to worry 
about expenses, as Uncle Sam foots the bills, and I have been wondering how in the 
world I can lower myself to eating "Corned Willie" and "lSum" and all of that catch- 
as-catch-can stuff again, but we won't worry about that now — not for a week, anyway. 

We were sent down here for a week on leave, in order that we may forget the 
Aorrors of war, and this certainly is the place for that. When we were lined up on the 
street hero, someone would give a yell, "Get six paces apart and dig in!" and also "Gas 
Alert!" and "Watch those cigarettes!" "Under cover — Boche plane overhead!" and "No 
talking in these woods!" It was really funny to hear them say these things jokingly, when they are really said to mean something, that is no joke. 

Well, here's hoping that by the time I get back to the company, something will 
happen so that we never see action again, but I fear my hopes will be in vain, because I 
don't really believe that this peace talk has any foundation. 

Tell Mr. Ruehlman that I know how he feels and all of that — I was the same way— 
almost crazy to "come over," but tell him that he is much better off. This is a hard 


life, and no joke — with death staring you in the face, and all you can do is to stare back 
at the old boy, and thinking he is going to lay his hand on you, and if he doesn't, the 
mental anxiety is just about as bad as death. 

You can't imagine the thoughts that go through a man's head when they tell you 
to go "over the top," and then in a little while they say "Get ready!" "Now, boys, go 
over!" I hope that I will never hear those orders again — twice was enough for me, so 
tell Mr. Ruehlman to quell his anxiety a little, that to come across may mean a cross 
(wooden). Give my love to all. Affectionately, 


* * •* # 


Dear Father: Somewhere in France 

At last I have reached France, and am about to continue my training on this side. 
It will probably be two months before I ever go over the German lines, and it is dis- 
heartening to think that peace may be declared before we even have a chance to go 
over Germany. Believe me, it certainly would be a pleasure to give a few Huns a taste 
of their own medicine. So far, my taste of war has only been in sightseeing. We have 
visited quite a few of the larger towns in France, and have always gone to the Cathe- 
drals, as you no doubt know, being that you have lived in France. This latter fact 
makes it rather difficult to write, because I am so filled up with their beauty and mag- 
nificence that it is hard to find another subject about which to write. 

I met Albin Provosty in New Orleans, where he was passing thru on his way to 
New York. I decided that we should go up together, so we rode on the same train to 
New York, and stayed together until I left. He is the only Spring Hill man that I have 
seen since I left New Orleans, but, luckily, I met a number of my old Tulane friends. 

At present I am trying to get into communication with Pearse, and it seems to be 
a rather hard thing to do. I wrote to him when I first arrived in France, and as yet 
have received no answer from him. 

The last two days, three of us have had a wonderful time riding around this part 
of the country on bicycles. This is perhaps the only way to get a clear idea of the suf- 
ferings of France. The sight of women and children doing a man's work, and poor 
cripples walking around is enough to stir up anyone and make him want to get at a 
few Huns. Every one here is of the same spirit. They all want to give the Germans 
a taste of what they have given France and Belgium. 

Well, Father, mess call has sounded, and in this country one is always hungry, so I 
will have to say au revoir. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am, 

Your friend, L. B. HICKEY 


Somewhere in France, September 13, 1918 
Dear Father: The Americans are carrying on an offensive in our sector, which 
started at 1 o'clock last night with a barage that would wake the dead. No one could 
sleep after they started. The weather was very cloudy and rainy, and a high wind was 
blowing all day, but it was up to us to watch the enemy's movements in the rear, and 
we did it, with great difficulty. I landed a few minutes ago after dark, completing my 
fourth trip today. It was the greatest trip I ever had. We left just before dusk, four 
of us in formation. Every town in the sector was on fire, and the flashes of our bat- 


teries were innumerable. We ran into seven German planes, but easily avoided them, 
our business being to reconnoiter, and not to fight. 

September 15, 1918 
We worked all day long yesterday, co-operating with the boys on the ground. It 
was very clear weather, and the air activity was immense. Heavy losses were inflicted. 
Several of our planes were shot down, but landed this side of our lines. There only 
remains eight pilots and four observers of our original start of nineteen pilots and six- 
teen observers, and two-thirds of the bunch I came over on the boat with have been 
killed or landed in Germany. Captain Wells, of our squadron, shot down a German 
plane over Metz at a low altitude of the second day of the drive. 

Our infantry is surprising all France in their fight and rapid advance, taking thou- 
sands of prisoners. 

September 24, 1918 
We have been moving for the past four days, and it has been some job. I am bil- 
leted in a French house here in the village, just like all the others, while the barracks 
are being put up. The weather has been fierce, raining all the time, and mud knee-deep. 
Imagine what moving in the rain is. We are on an entirely new sector, and are looking 
for lots of hard work in the future. 

I had a most interesting trip last week. I drove up to the front in a car, and went 
through all the old towns that used to be in Germany. I had often seen them from the 
air, and wondered what they looked like on the ground. 

September 29, 1918 
Triis Verdun drive is still going full force, and so are we. I was forced to land at 
another field last night on my way back from Germany, on account of darkness, and ran 
Into quite a bunch of fellows I had met in the States. I spent the night with them, and 
flew home this morning. The Americans are going fine in all departments, just as they 
did at the St. Mihiel drive. 

November 4, 1918 
I have just finished identifying the photos which we took today, of the ground over 
which our infantry will fight tomorrow. This is our part of co-operation. We are 
the eyes of the army. We fly in a formation of three planes. I led the formation one 
day when we had such an awful fight with ten German planes, but we all returned 
safely with information and photographs. Take it from me, the Germans are on the 
run, and have been for some time. 

November 10, 1918 
Today the kaiser's abdication was officially announced, and it is good news, but we 
don't let up. As I am writing this, a formation of twenty American bombers are flying 
over the field to keep the good work going by bombing the next town to be taken. It is 
fine to be on the winning side of this great war. 

Today another man come into our group who was in my class at Georgia Tech. He 
just landed over here last month, and I have been here a year. It is funny how you do 
run into some of the old crowd at allplaces. 


First Lieutenant, A. S., U. S. A. 

From the Camps 

Camp Pike, Ark., November 5, 1918 
Dear Father: Your letter has been received and noted. It was indeed a pleasure 
to hear from some one at Spring Hill. As you can see from the headlines, I am at the 
K. of C. Hall, which is a magnificent building, commanding the admiration of all who 
visit it. Yesterday the Captain and myself went to the base hospital to inquire about 
a sick student, and I saw at least twenty-five corpses being carried out. The Spanish 
influenza is playing havoc here, although they seem to have it under their power and 
control now. 

In the Officers' Training School we have 10,000 students, men of all walks of life. 
My duties are hard ,but I like them, and am making a splendid showing here. I was 
fortunate enough to make the highest mark, surpassing students from Virginia, Ohio 
State University and various other colleges of repute. However, my physical makeup 
is causing me a little inconvenience, because of paralysis of the left side. I earnestly 
hope that I will be permitted to finish, because I have gained the confidence and back- 
ing of all my officers. 

Thanking you for your kindness, and the consideration which you have shown me, 

■*• * -# * * 


Dear : Landshut, Bayern, Bavaria 

We are getting along fine at this camp, and have nothing to worry about. Our 
food is very good, and I am thankful our camp is in Bavaria. 

I want you to write and tell me whether I was reported dead or missing, and all 
the news possible. Tell all your friends to send magazines and something to eat to this 
camp. Also, if there is an Aviators' Relief in America, tell them that this place is a 
permanent camp for flyers- 1 could eat fifty pounds of chocolate, so send as many bars 
as possible. What you do not send to me, send to the Red Cross President at this ad- 
dress (American). This has certainly been a terrible blow to me, as I had so many 
f/ell-made plans, and now they are gone forever! I will never be able to go back to the 
Western front, and I am out of this war for good! I had counted on making my mark 
in the army, but those who are captured have no future to look forward to. Twelve 
of our squadron were forced to land near Coblenz while on a bombing raid. We left 
France at 6 p. m., with the sky very cloudy. After flying for two hours over the clouds, 
with a very high wind behind us, we came out over this large city, which was not on 
our maps. We thought it a French city, as we did not see any German planes and no 
Archie battery fired a shot at us during the trip or while we were over the city. We 
turned south for home, and were forced to land, as it was very dark and there was no 
gasoline in the tanks. We came dawn about sixty miles south of Coblenz at 10:45. The 
wind was so strong that it required two hours to go sixty miles, when it should have 
taken only forty-five minutes. 

We could do nothing but follow the flight commander, which is our duty, and when 
I left the field I knew I would never see it again. We have received very good treat- 
ment in the hands of the Germans. (Two lines and a half are deleted here). I have 
travelled all over Germany, but I expect to settle down here for at least eighteen months. 
I wish you could send me a pair of shoes that are capable of lasting. I wish you would 
and I will repay you when I return. Food is the principle thing which I will need the 
entire time I am over here; also cigarettes — we have to pay four cents apiece for them. 
Please do not worry about me, as I will always get on, and I do not want you to worry 


about me in the least. Give my love to all, and remember I would certainly appreciate 
their kindness in writing, as I am unable to write except so often. I am sending a little 
note to Father Cummings in this letter. When I landed I thought I was in Switzerland, 
but when the German soldiers and about seventy-five civilians arrived on the scene I 
knew otherwise, and ever since then I have not had the least doubt. Love to all. 

Yours devotedly, 

"^ $fc T^ 3jt 

M. G. Camp, France, November 5, 1918 
Dear Father: Just a few lines to let you know that I am at last over here, and I 
am certainly satisfied. I am in the M. G. School at present, but guess in a few weeks I 
will mose closer up. Tom Horkans is also here, and we often speak of Old Spring Hill 
and our happy days there. 

I guess when you receive this you will have played the Thanksgiving game, and, re- 
member, I am pulling hard for our team to triumph, for I hope to be back to participate 
in the one following against Howard. Give my best regards to "Pat," "Bobo," and 
any of the other fellows that I should know. 

With my best wishes and esteem for you and the other members of the faculty, and 
a heart full of love for Old Spring Hill, I am, 


# # * * 

With the Navy 

Officers' Training School, Pelham Bay, N. Y., November 2, 1918 
Dear Father: Am near the completion of a course which will give me a title of 
midshipman in the U. S. N. I have enjoyed every minute since enlisting, and made 
exceptionally quick advancement. In good health, despite the raging epidemic of in- 
fluenza which has taken an exceedingly heavy toll along the Atlantic seaboard and 
New England states, especially here in New York City the poor have very poor venti- 
lation and very inadequate homes. This class has suffered, and fifty per cent of the 
total deaths in the city have occurred in their districts. 

I want to ask for a recommendation which I can present to the local board of ex- 
aminers. It is specified each candidate shall be able to present this certificate, or either 
make an affidavit as to the amount of schooling each has had. 

By the way, I met Jutes McPhillips, but I think he has been transferred from this 
station. Hoping you are well, and remember me to Fathers Rittmeyer and Reuhlman. 
Sincerely, JAS. P. MACKIN 

* * •* * 

East Boston, Mass., October 14, 1918 
Dear Father: I hope you will forgive me for not writing sooner, but I have been 
very busy, and was in the hospital for one week with Spanish influenza. 

I am having a fine time since my enlistment, and have traveled a great deal. I am 
.'.tationed at Boston — at least, Boston is our headquarters. I was at Norfolk, Va., for 
two weeks, and have made two trips to Rockland, Maine; also one to New York, and 
have seen lots of places I would not have seen had I not enlisted. Many a time I wish 


I had waited and gone to school at Dear Old Spring Hill, instead of being in such a 
hurry to get into the service. In fact, I started to write and say something about it, 
but thought it best not to change, because I did not want to worry mother; she might 
think I was not satisfied, and she would not be contented until I did make some move, 
but I am very happy now. We have a Y. M. C. A. man on our boat, and he is always 
doing something to amuse us. When we were in Rockland he had a man who had been 
in France for eighteen months, to give us a talk about what was going on "Over 
There," the food problem, and how the different cities are raided at night by aero- 
planes. He said he was in Paris several times when it was raided, and was also in Lon- 
don when it was bombarded by the air craft. 

We have a certain time for everything, Father, and to be able to leave we must 
have a pass like we used to get to go to the Hill — puts me in mind, and makes me 
think of Old Spring Hill. The training I received there has surely been the world of 
good to me. I hope the football team is keeping up its good record this year, and that 
it will come out victorious in the first two games, and will do the same in all the rest. 

I hope the Spanish influenza is not as bad at Spring Hill as it is in Boston. There 
has been thousands dying with the disease in the city, and we have lost about fifteen 
men off our boat, and about five hundred out of the six hundred aboard have been in 
bed with it. We have not had shore liberty for about three weeks, and it will be an- 
other week, or maybe longer, before any leaves will be given. 

One thing I am very thankful for; that is, the Catholic boys have the honor of hear- 
ing mass every Sunday. We have mass right out in the yard. The altar is made up on 
a little platform, used for boxing and other things at night. The Priest brings all the 
necessary things which is needed to perform the holy sacrifice of Mass. Well, Father, I 
will have to close now, as taps will be blown in a few minutes, and we have to be in our 
bunks when the bugle sounds. Give my best wishes to all the faculty and the boys; also 
give me your blessing. From your friend and scholar, 


War Novels 


AR BEARS NO GOOD," runs the old maxim, but however dark 
the cloud, there is always — excuse the platitude — a silver 
lining beneath. 

One of the few compensations of the recent war is rendered 
to the literary world, and especially to magazine fiction. 

It is this form of literature that we who have little leisure 
must adopt, — however, the novel must not be forgotten. 

Of the many war novels written, "Greenmantle," "Mr. Brit- 
ling Sees It Thru," and "Le Feu" are the most readable. 

Strictly speaking, these novels are not novels at all. Rather, 
they are invaluable document. 
"Mr. Britling Sees It Thru" carries us thru the first few months of 
the average Englishman's reaction, but Mr. Britling does not see it thru. 
He sees only the beginning of the great struggle. 

"Le Feu," on the other hand, by its wonderful description of trench life 
and military detail gives as exactly what we crave, namely, it brings 
the war to our homes. 

Of the short stories, "La Guerra, Madame," "Coming Home," "The De- 
serter," and many others of this type emphasize the fact that the war has 
dealt kindly with fiction. One is not so story-mad as to rejoice in the war 
because the war made these stories possible, but these stories belong to the 
list of minor compensations. 

Pre-war fiction is excellent — from a grammatical standpoint. It is true 
that some pre-war novels are inimitable, but fiction of this type is the 
product of inspired genius, and are exceptions. As we are dealing with fic- 
tion in general, the standard must therefore be lowered to the mediocre 
author. Judging pre-war and war fiction from this vantage point, it is pos- 
sible to obtain a fair concept of the two. 

It may be truthfully said that for the most part, pre-war fiction was 
stale. The stories, while original to a certain extent, were always fashioned 
after plots cast from the same mould. 

The reading public became overburdened with stories of social scandal 
which were too absurd to be even conceived by the ordinary intellect. Im- 
possible love themes became the order of the day. 

The war relieved this situation by presenting innumerable new and 
never-before thought-of plots. Though the "love" scenes are still enacted, 
how different are the means used to achieve the result ! 

Dangers on the firing line, hazards on torpedoed ships and thrilling 
aerial flight enacted by men clad as soldiers instead of the well dressed 
handsome hero of pre-war fiction has rejuvenated the literary public. 


When it comes to the general English product of war fiction, we find 
ourselves facing five fairly distinct types of book. There is the serious 
social study, like "Changing Winds" and "Sonia" ; there the mystical reac- 
tion, like "The Soul of a Bishop" and "The Coming" ; there is the sentimen- 
tal tale with war pulling all the dramatic wires, like "Missing" and "The 
Second Fiddle" ; there is the story which affects to document us on Ger- 
man psychology, like "Christine" and "The Salt of the Earth" ; and there 
is the "yarn" pure and simple, full of spies, suspense, and mystery, like 
"Good Old Anna" and the more admirable "Greenmantle." 

"Christine" is excellent reading, partly perhaps because it is so short. 
"Salt of the Earth" is passable, though not nearly so well written. Neither 
is of great value as literature, being mostly documentary. Their chief in- 
terest lies in their description of the interior of Germany and the inner side 
of the German's social life. Someone has well said that "we will read any- 
thing that professes to take us into Germany and show us the social ugli- 
ness that prevails there. Like going into a zoo, it is a safe way of looking 
at hyenas. The book is your ticket, very cheap at the price. I never neg- 
lect a zoo, and I should never neglect a "shilling shocker" about German 
social and military life on the eye of the great war. But so far, the neces- 
sary talent to make a great novel with this data has not been conjoined in 
any one person. We must still dream of what a Balzac could have done 
with contemporary Germany. 

English war literature would show that the islanders in their "splendid 
isolation" have, to use Kipling's phrase, "at last begun to hate." The French 
had long since begun — for the mass of the people had not had time in 1914 
to recover from 1870. With the English, the case was different. They had 
no Alsace-Lorraine to remember, or an 1870, and the British collier Lournel 
knew but little of the "Vaterland." 

From this arises a decided difference in the novels of the two nations. 

While Atkins is expressing continual surprise at Fritz not keeping any 
of the rules, the Poilu laughs. It was just as he expected. 

The sentimental war fiction has been somewhat voluminous. Maudlin 
sympathy has vented itself on war topics, and unworthily so. Where the 
theme is so vast, so palpable, there is no need of idealization. No one can 
brook the use of the war as a physical assault on our emotions. It is too 
sacred a subject for hectic sentimentalism. 

The war has hit us all, and that makes useless any appeal to our emo- 
tions, for they are already at high pitch. 

To synopsize our cursory treatment of what in itself is as yet an un- 
determined cursory subject. It is one of George Elliott's heroes whose 
universal criticism of everything is that "like the curate's egg, it is good 
in parts." Perhaps we are mistaken in the author, but the phrase is appli- 
cable to war fiction. The material is excellent, and has been well handled 
at times, but the Sienkiewicz of Democracy's War is yet unborn. 
























Nov. 28— 

A. J. CROCI, A.B. '23 

High Mass, Feast of All Saints. 

Lieutenant L. K. Braund receives promotion to first lieutenancy. 
Rev. Fr. A. J. Doherty, Chaplain, passes thru on way to France. 
Large rally held in Senior Campus. 
Varsity ties with Marion at Monroe Park. 
Solemn inauguration of Spring Hill Students into U. S. Army. 
■S. A. T. C. and S. H. Cadets march in Peace Parade at Mobile. 
Varsity vs. Tulane. 
Junior Varsity vs. Wrights. 
Varsity vs. Gulfport. 

Monthly readings of notes. Fourth year high classical gives ex- 
Varsity plays Gulfport Naval Station. 

Dec. 4 — First installment of K. of C. hut arrives. 

P. M. Second Team of High School vs. U. M. S. 
Dec. 7 — Jesuits' Team arrives from New Orleans. 
Dec. 8 — Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Solemn High Mass. 

P. M. Junior Varsity vs. Jesuits' High.t 
Dec. 8— Jnitiation of S. A. T. C. into K. of C. 
Dec. 11 — Papal Legate visits S. H. C. 
Dec. 20 — Third Year High gives exhibition. 
Dec. 21 — Students depart for Christmas Vacations. 


A. J. CROCI, A.B. '23 

Notwithstanding the many changes at Spring Hill this 
EXHIBITIONS year, the old custom of having class exhibitions still 

remains. Although they had only a week within which 
to prepare, the members of the Fourth Year High Classical rendered a fine 
exhibition. Under the rapid fire of questions from their Class President, 
they showed a remarkable fluency in speaking Latin, and an intimate ac- 
quaintance with the intricacies of Latin parsing. Daniel J. O'Rourke and 
John P. Cooney entertained the audience with several selections on the piano 
and mandolin. The selection in elocution by Louis Mulherin was well inter- 
preted, and equally well said. 

On November 2, 1918, our Commandant, Lieutenant 
PROMOTION Lyle K. Braund, was promoted from Second Lieuten- 
ancy to First Lieutenancy. All success to him from The 
Springhillian in the performance of his many duties. 

To keep the vigil of our encounter with Marion, our old 
FOOTBALL RALLY foe, a rally was held in the S. A. T. C. division. All day 

Friday the bon-fire detail was busy hauling wood to 
the Senior campus, where they erected two large pyramids of lumber. 
Shortly after supper, the fires were lighted, and both divisions circled 
around them to listen to the spirited exhortation of Lieutenant Braund, and 
to receive confidence and assurance from the expressions of Captain Rob- 
inson and Manager Rice of the team. The applause was loud and long, and 
they showed that they would do their share for victory by putting all they 
had in practicing the cheers and songs. After the practice, music was ren- 
dered by the S. A. T. C. Band, and the boys enjoyed a snake dance around 
the bon-fires. 

INDUCTION OF On November 10, 1918, a simple but impressive cere- 
STUDENTS INTO mony was enacted on the college campus, to mark the 
U. S. A. formal induction of the Students' Army Training Corps 

of Spring Hill. About 350 interested spectators, be- 
sides the regularly enrolled students and faculty of the college, witnessed 
the ceremony. The authority for establishing this unit by the United 
States War Department was read by Lieutenant Braund, after which he 
spoke to the students of the obligation that they were taking upon them- 
selves, and then administered the oath of allegiance as a soldier of the 
United States. 


Adjutant Lieutenant A. S. Butterfield read the instructions of the 
Army, and followed this with the message of President Wilson to the 
Army. Mayor G. E. Crawford of Mobile, taking as his subject "Patriotism," 
addressed the new unit of the army. Following this, the Reverend Pres- 
ident of the College congratulated the soldier boys on having become a 
part of the United States Army. 

After the speeches, an exhibition drill was rendered by the soldiers, at 
the close of which retreat was sounded, and the Flag was lowered. — M. M. 

Text of Mayor Crawford's Address 

Gentlemen of the Students' Army Training Corps: 

I swell with pride in addressing such a fine body of young men as soldiers of the 
great army of the United States, of which you have just become a part. Old Kaiser 
Bill, about eighteen months ago, referred to you and the army you represent, as the 
insignificant American army which did not know how to fight, but, thanks be to God, 
that little army in a very short space of time has won the respect of even the kaiser 
himself, who has changed his criticism so as to refer to the United States soldiers as 
not knowing when to stop fighting. Also, that little American army has been the means 
of today forcing the kaiser and his six unwounded sons to seek places of safety some- 
where in the wilds of Siberia. 

By your oath of allegiance today, my young friends, you have become a part of 
that army which has won the admiration of Europe, and which has proved the God-send 
jf the Allies in their near-desperate cause. For did not the American army fill in the 
breach, turn the tide of battle, and in something less than eighteen months of prepara- 
tion make the Germans yell enough, even in their own specialties of sinking merchant 
ships and bombing defenseless cities? By your act today your stock has risen in the 
opinion of your fellow-citizens one hundred per cent, and you enter the class of those 
making the supreme sacrifice. We who do not fight can pay the taxes and save the 
flour, and raise the war funds and obey the request of the Government not to use our 
automobiles on Sundays, but in the words of our great President, no sacrfices that we 
are making are comparable to the sacrifices of those like yourselves who are entering 
the ranks. 

But the grand thing, young men, about all this is that you do not look upon your 
act a sa sacrifice, but take it as a mere matter of fact and duty. It is typical of the 
American soldier, and that old song truly represents the sentiment of the soldiers, which 
in effect says that when you enter the army, you "Pack up your troubles in the old kit 
bag, and smile, smile, smile." 

I recently talked to a banker who had just returned from the North and East, and 
what he said reminds me of you young men this afternoon. I asked him if the people 
up there thought the Germans would accept the Allied armistice, and his reply was 
that the people North and East were afraid the Germans would accept it, but that they 
did not want them to just yet. These people, he said, wished the Germans to hold out 
a little longer until the Allies bombed Metz and Cologne and Mannheim and Coblenz, and 
razed to the ground some of the German towns, as the Germans had done many of the 
French. And I know you boys feel just that way today — you are afraid this war is 
going to be over before you can get into it. Well, the thing for you to do is, until 
peace comes, to train as if it was nowhere in sight, and if it don't come, you will be 


ready. But if peace should come today or tomorrow, yours is nevertheless a grand 
prospect, because doubtless your training of body and mind will go under the direction 
of the Government to fit you for the part you are to play as citizens of this great Re- 
public in its reconstruction, and the reconstruction of the Allied countries. You are to 
be the future leaders in thought and action, and this great government, realizing this, is 
going to take care of you and direct you, peace or no peace. 

In this beautiful spot, so wonderfully endowed by nature and man, and so well 
fitted for the work in which you are engaged, how glorious it is to prepare yourselves 
here for service to your country and to your fellow man. But if you did nothing here, 
my young friends, but to be under the influence of those men of spirit and fire, and at 
the same time those men of God, the college faculty, your time would be well spent, and 
you would be receiving that more precious than anything money could buy. If I had a 
boy, I could wish for him nothing better than to be under the care of teachers such as 
your noble professors. We in Mobile know them and appreciate them, for we have often 
been obliged to call on them to make our people see their responsibility and do their 
part, and their efforts have never failed of success. I am sure that under their guid- 
ance you have a great future, and my advice to you would be to accept their leadership 
in all things, and they will carry you on. 

At the meeting held for the election of officers, the 

SODALITY OF following were elected : Prefect, S. Marston ; First As- 

BLESSED VIRGIN sistant, G. Fitzgibbons ; Second Assistant, M. Demp- 

sey; Secretary, E. McEvoy; Sacristans, D. O'Rourke 

and M. Burke. Owing to the change in the daily order, meetings are not 

held in the morning, as was the custom, but in the afternoon. When the 

High School division was separated from the College Department, the 

Junior Division's number was almost doubled, hence the Sodality greatly 

increased its membership. 

The first general meeting started with 18 members, and amongst the 
newcomers were eight or ten members from other colleges. About thirty 
candidates were admitted into the Sodality. A tridium lasting three days 
was ovesrved by all the members, and on the Feast of the Immaculate Con- 
ception, the members in a body all went to Holy Communion. 

The orchestra was not organized until late in No- 
ORCHESTRA vember. So far, we have not had the pleasure of any 
entertainment from them, but feel sure that they have 
great things in store for us at the next exhibition. 

SANCTUARY The Saint John Berchman's Sanctuary made their first 
SOCIETY public appearance on the Feast of the Immaculate Con- 

ception. They are still continuing to hold their regular 
monthly meetings, and all seem to be well pleased with the progress of the 
Society. On Sunday, December 1, they went to the Convent of the Visita- 
tion for the beginning of the Forty Hours' Devotion. 


To celebrate the signing of the armistice by the nations 
PEACE PARADE at war, all day Monday, November 11, was spent by 

Mobile in a demonstration of their great joy and hap- 
piness. At seven P. M. that evening a large parade was held in which both 
the S. A. T. C. and High School Divisions took part. 

The order of the Knights of Columbus was introduced 
KNIGHTS OF into the S. A. T. C. division at Spring Hill, and many 
COLUMBUS of the soldiers made their application for member- 
ship. A K. of C. hut has been promised to the mem- 
bers, and the first installment of it has already been shipped. 

Alumni Notes 

'78 F. Screech, B.S. 78, who has been for many years a prominent mer- 
chant in Montamoros, sent his son here on a visit. He still cher- 
ishes fond recollections of the Padres of old Spring Hill. 

'00 Jules M. Burguieres is treasurer of the Southern States Land and 
Timber Co., West Palm Beach, Fla. 

'07 Sidney Simon is engaged to be married shortly to Miss Cecile Licht- 
bach, Mobile. Congratulations to Sid from The Springhillian. 

The death of Leon Soniat, A.B. '07, has been confirmed by Washing- 
ton, and the customary card of sympathy sent from the President. 
But beyond the date of his death, September 16, no other details 
were given. 

'08 Peter Neeley, ex A.B. '08, of Mobile, had a daughter born some few 
weeks ago. We join with his many friends in congratulating Pete 
on the happy event. 

Walter Walsh, A.B. '08, is on the advertising staff of the Times-Pic- 
ayune, New Orleans, La. 

P. J. Turregano, A.B. '08, is secretary and treasurer of the Alexandria 
Steam Laundry. 

Lieutenant Arnold Block, A.B. '08, from Camp Hancock, visited S. H. 
C. on December 3, when enjoying a short furlough. 

'09 Gilbert Le Baron, A.B. '09, U. S. N., died in hospital in Portsmouth, 
England, having succumbed to an attack of grippe. He wrote us 
lately, expressing his desire to help S. H. C. win her games this 


year. He has since crossed the channel for active service in 

'10 Albert Hahn, B.S. '10, is captain of artillery at Camp Eustace, Va. 

Joseph Murray, ex B.S. '10, has been promoted to first lieutenancy 
since our last issue. 

"11 Dr. Francis A. Meyer, A.B. '11, died in Shreveport on November 2. 
While deploring the end of so talented a career, we offer to his rel- 
atives our sincerest sympathy. 

Clifford Adune, ex B.S. '13, is in the Alabama Ship Yards, Mobile. 

Lee Drago, B. S. '11, is in the United States Army, and is stationed at 
San Antonio, Texas. 

'12 Stapleton Gallagher, ex A.B. '12, is at the remount station near Mont- 

'13 Dr. Wm. E. Barker, A.B. '13, lieutenant Medical Corps, was married 
to Miss Bennett Gordan on October 29. We tend him our sin- 
cerest congratulations. 

Clarence T. Lawless, ex A.B. '13, is in the motor supply and garage, 
New Orleans, La. 

'14 Yeend Potter, ex A.B. '14, had a son born to him some few weeks ago. 
We offer him our heartiest congratulations. 

Edmond P. McKenna, B.S. '14, has been transferred from Ft. Worth, 
Texas, to the Naval Aviation Station in Miami, where he is serv- 
ing as an instructor. 

"Moon" Ducote, B.S. '14, joined the Naval Reserves. It was with 
pleasure we read of his football fame in the Chicago Daily News, 
and cannot refrain from quoting the article in full, by George S. 
Robbins : 


This takes in China, Japan, Chile and other countries of the globe, 
and it's a sweeping assertion ,yet it is what Joe Paupa, coach of the 
undefeated Municipal Pier football team, thinks of Robert Ducote, half- 
back of the United States Naval Reserves team of Cleveland. 

Paupa says this big Frenchman is in a class by himself. It takes 
about seven men to tackle him and bring him down, once he's handed the 
ball and starts through the line. 

This halfback runs with a high stride that makes him hard to tackle, 
and he's so strong in the legs that it requires concerted effort to stop 


him. Ducote does not try to dodge, like Blocki or Johnson or Driscoll, 
but goes straight down the field. The more men who tackle him, the 
merrier, thinks this big Frenchman. 

Besides being the whale of a man at carrying the ball through inter- 
ference, Ducote is considered an excellent punter. In the forward pass 
he is clever as a starter and as a receiver-general whn one of his pals 
has done the originating. 

In the recent game between the Pier and the Naval Reserves,, won 
by Paupa's men, 6 to 0, the Chicago boys were compelled to mass their 
defense in order to stop this dashing Frenchman from puncturing their 
line for more touchdowns. 

In this memorable game, one of the hardest fought of the entire sea- 
son, the Pier boys came near being defeated. The ball was carried eighty- 
six yards on the sweep of the Cleveland team, or rather Ducote, rown 
toward the Pier goal. Just to show what kind of a player this man Du- 
cote is, suffice it to mention he carried the ball in fifteen of the seven- 
teen downs, and averaged five yards to the down. 

The ball was carried by the intrepid Frenchman to the Pier one-foot 
line, where finally the Naval Reserves were held and the ball changed 

"Dick" Ducote, as he is called, came from Spring Hill and the Ala- 
bama Polytechnic Institute. His real ability was not brought to light 
until he joined the service. "Rose of the South," they called him down 
there. "Weighing 193 pounds, Ducote. seems light on his feet for all 
that," said Coach Paupa today. "He moves through a line something 
like one of our latest tanks plowed through the enemy at Chateau Thierry 
and St. Mihiel. If there is a human obstruction in his path, he carries 
it along with him. There does not seem to be a department of the game 
in which he is not proficient." 

Lawrence P. Hickey, A.B. '14, second lieutenant, has lately reached 
France. He deplores the fact of peace being declared before he 
has had a chance to go over the German lines. 

'15 L. A. Plauche, ex A.B. '15, is assistant cashier in the Evangeline Bank 
and Trust Companq. He writes us, saying, "An alumnus may 
neglect his Alma Mater, but he does not forget her." 

John Van Heuval, B.S. '15, who has been in the thick of the air fighting 
overseas, with the American Expeditionary Forces, has been rec- 
ommended for the distinguished service cross. The information 
was supplied by Lieutenant Walter R. Lawson, who served in the 
same air squadron. 

"You will be pleased, I know, to learn," he writes, "that John has 
been recommended for the distinguished service cross, and has probably 
been awarded the decoration by now. He has shown unhesitating devo- 
tion to duty, and has proven himself absolutely fearless in the face of 
the enemy. I left the front on October 14, for the United States, and 


John was at that time situated south of Verdun, flying over the fighting 
front in connection with the first American Army." 

Charles Pearce, B.S. '15, is at the Great Lakes Naval Station, U. S. N. 

'16 Ed Crowell, A.B. '16, is stationed in London, Eng., and is serving in 
the communication department. His experiences are interesting. 
He writes: 

On the 11th the king gave away Victoria Crosses, etc., in the palace 
courtyard. Only a limited number of persons were allowed to be present. 
I was in a party of American officers, and after the ceremony was over 
we were introduced to the king, and shook hands with him. 

* * * 

November 12 
I know that all of you were glad to hear that the armistice was 
signed, and I know that everybody in the U. S. is celebrating a good deal. 
They are certainly raising a racket in London. The streets were full ten 
minutes after it was announced. The peaple never have ceased yelling 
and parading. No bands — everyone starts a parade of his own. Yes- 
terday afternoon I passed Buckingham Palace on my way back from the 
office just about the time the king was ready to drive out in a carriage. 
There must have been over 60,000 people crowded outside the palace 
gates around Queen Victoria's monument waiting in the rain to see the 
king drive by. The weather cleared up by night, and the Strand, Pica- 
dilly Circus and Trafalgar Square were jammed. I never saw as many 
people together in my life. The black paint on the street lamps has been 
cleared off, so London looks somewhat brighter than it did before. It 
was dangerous to cross the streets at night before, as there was so very 
little light. No electric advertising lights — they advertise here by paint- 
ing on their windows, "By special appointment to His Majesty." If the 
king's butler's son buys a necktie at a store, they immediately put up a 
special appointment notice. Every other store has it on their delivery 
wagons. Talking about stores, it would be interesting to know what 
to know what fruit costs in London. Ordinary apples I bought for 24 
cents each; saw grapes marked $3 per pound. I do not know how long 
before I return to the United States. I may possibly be transferred to 
Paris during the conference. 

C. Edward Hails, ex B.S. '16, is now at the mechanical training school 
in the University of Alabama. 

'17 Herbert Gray, ex B.S. '17, has been lately recommended for bravery. 

Alvin Christovich, A.B. '17, enlisted in the navy in August, 1918, after 
passing required examinations, and was sent to the Great Lakes 
Training Station in Chicago. He has served on the steamship A. 
E. Nettleton," on the great lakes. 

Matthew Price, B.S. '17, has returned home from Camp Pike, and 
has resumed the study of law at the University of Alabama. He 


made a fine showing at Camp Pike, being fortunate enough to 
make the highest marks in his exams., surpassing students from 
Virginia, Ohio State and other schools of importance. 

Thomas Horkan, ex B.S. '17, enlisted in the Machine Gun Corps, and 
has been in France for some time. 

Louis B. Mackin, A.B. '17, is now stationed at the Officers' Training 
Camp, Camp Taylor, and has lately been home on furlough. 

Louis Boudousquie and James V. Murray, B.S. '17, have returned to 
Spring Hill, and have been enrolled in the S. A. T. C. 

Richard A. Finch, B.S. '17, was enrolled in the S. A. T. C. at Loyola. 

Thomas Keane, A.B. '17, has been in the navy for some time, and is sta- 
tioned at Charleston, S. C. 


R. M. Cotter, B.S. '17, is a member of the U. S. Army. He was recently 
on furlough in Elizabeth City to close up his business affairs. He 
left on November 8 for the Officers' Training School for the Coast 
Artillery at Fort Monroe. 

'17 Lionel Bienvenu was enrolled in the S. A. T. C, and starred on the 
Tulane football eleven just as he did at Spring Hill. 

'18 Jake Clements, ex B.S. '18, enlisted in the Machine Gun Corps April, 
1917, and has been in France since September, 1918. 

Rodney Ollinger, ex B. S. '18, was in the S. A. T. C. at Auburn, and 
starred at end on the Auburn football eleven. He recently visited 
here while on furlough. 

Charles Ollinger, ex A.B. '18, was at Auburn in the S. A. T. C, and 
came to Mobile for the Thanksgiving game. 

Noel Schweers, ex B.S. '18, enlisted in the army after the Mexican 
trouble, has lately been sent to France. 

Jack McCarthy, ex B.S. '18, U. S. N., died at sea, a victim of pneu- 
monia. Awaiting details of his death, we tender condolences to his 
many friends. 

Clifford Bougere, ex A.B. '18, was a member of the S. A. T. C. at 

Pierre Neely, B.S. '18, was in the S. A. T. C. at the University of Ala- 


Fred Hewes, ex A.B. '18, enlisted in the Naval Reserves, and is now 
stationed at Gulfport, Miss. 

Sidney Mason, ex B.S. '18, joined the Naval Reserves, and is on duty 
in New Orleans. 

'19 Clarence Lange, ex A.B. '19, writes from the U. S. air station, telling 
us how he has kept in touch with our alumni. He has lately sent 
us a souvenir from France. 

Woodruff Sapp, ex B.S. '19, was enrolled in the S. A. T. C. at Ala- 
bama. The soldier's ilfe is his ideal. 

P. C. De Bardeleben has joined the Naval Aviation at Auburn. 

'21 Henry Gibbons, ex B.S. '21, is now in the Marines, having enlisted 
during the summer months. 

Harold Ziegler, ex A.B. '21, enlisted in the Naval Reserves in New 

High School Locals 

M. BURKE, A.B. '23 

Sergeant Matt Rice has been assigned to instruct the 
OUR NEW High School in the high arts of the military profession, 

MILITARY and up to date his batting average is one thousand. 

INSTRUCTORS The High School is divided into two companies. The 

A division drills in the "big yard" under Sergeant Rice, 
and the B division drills in the little yard under Ed Castagnos. Quite a 
bit of friendly rivalry is existing between the two companies, and if Ser- 
geant Castagnos has as much success as he did in creating excitement at 
the Thanksgiving game, everything will be peaches for Company B. Watch 
your step ! 

A A X A 

One day after dinner, when everything was calm and 
FATIGUE DETAIL peaceful, we were rudely disturbed by the harsh notes 

of the bugle telling us to "fall in." We were a bit up 
the air as to what was the cause — all began thinking of our "delayed uni- 
forms" and "inspection." But ere a few minutes had elapsed, we soon 
found out the reason. A group of names were read out, and these were 
"asked" to step forward. They then formed into squads, and were given 


the privilege of cleaning up the yard and policing the balcony. This is 
called "fatigue duty." ! it's great. Almost as cruel as Red Gilmore pick- 
ing his turkey alive. This is a mild form of punishment, arising from 
being lazy, etc. So, look out for your behaviour, as this is an awful limb 
of the service. 

A A A A 

One afternoon, about a week before the Marion-Spring 

OUR NEW Hill game, the college cheer leader, newly appointed by 

CHEER LEADER this year's football team, came over to the high school 

to give us a little instruction in yells. He also spoke to 

us on college spirit, and put the old pep into us. He has the proper stuff 

for the job, and is a clever and willing actor. "If hecan fight like he can 

yell, what a soldier boy he'll be !" He came over every day thereafter until 

the game. He invited us over to the rally, and led us to a victory at the 

game. We hate to lose him, we're so used to him now. 

A A A A 

Just the time the armistice was declared, a new war 
ONE-ROUND began — over here. Our most illustrious Cirlot, who 
SIDE-SPLITTER looks like the crown prince when he chews gum, started 
a campaign against Gullette, whose pretzel-like imagi- 
nation made him so imperialistic as to deem himself the rival of Shake- 
speare. The result of the bout was that neither has yet died. The specta- 
tors came pretty near doing so, however, from laughing, had not the ref- 
eree called time. 

A A A A 

Commandant to company at conclusion of the first inspection: "Dis- 
missed!" O'Rourke: "What did he say, Tte missa est' "? 

A A A A 

Heard before the Jesuits' game. "Do all the faculty play on the team?" 

A A A A 

The latest news is that "Snipe" Soniat has become a human bird-perch. 
Is that the reason why he wears his sweater over his head ? 

A A A A 

AT THE Fitzgibbons (to Fox) : Say, look at those Turks the 

PEACE PARADE Americans have captured. 

Fox : Oh, you fathead ; those are Shriners. 



We will "Byrne" the kaiser's goat in "May," and the crown prince 
will "Tremmel" in his boots. Am I "Wright" ? 

X X X X 

"Henry" "Ford" "Schweers" that he will be "Damrich" before the 
weather is "Rainey." 

X X X X 

Simpson (to a member of Fourth High) : Say, why is the classical 
class of Fourth High working so hard ? 

Putnam — Oh, we are building an ark, because we expect a flood in 

X X X X 

Jack Thompson recently got the first excellence card, and Major got 
something else when the pipe was discovered in his mouth. 

X X X X 

Which is the slower in coming, our uniforms or the Christmas vaca- 
tions ? 

X X X X 

Maria Rosa 

There Bohemia thrives. 

The grotesque assumes the com- 
monplace ; 

The commonplace becomes gro- 

That's why people call it Bohemia. 

I met her on a January night 

In a quaint cellar arrangement 

Called the Mad Mullah, 

Down by Washington Square. 

The snow was falling outside, 

And the wind was mumbling lowly. 

The Mad Mullah was replete 

With Coziness and Atmosphere 

That night . . . 

I was seated all by myself, 

Doubled up in a corner, 

Sipping coffee, 

Smoking Fatimas, 

And I felt terribly lonesome. 

And I must have looked lonesome, 

Because, after awhile 
She turned her big black eyes 
On me. 

"Won't you join us ?" 
"With pleasure." 
And I did. 

There were two others with her 
At the table. 
One was a male. 
The other wasn't. 
They followed suit. 
Except the Big Black Eyes. 



1 waxed inquisitive. 

"Maria Rosa", 

She replied softly. 

1 liked the name 

And the manner with which she 

twisted it 
Around her pretty tongue. 

She spoke wonderful Spanish, 

And her French accent was flaw- 

Besides, she had a smattering of 

And she could recite, too. 

She knew passages from Shake- 

And Milton by heart. 

The subtle puns of Don Marquis 

Held no terrors for her. 

She dabbled in Literature 


And dashed off a sonnet 

Now and then, 

For the sake of passing her time 


Besides this, she knew Brieux 

Was a member of the Academy, 

And that Edgar Lee Masters 

Was the author of the Spoon River 

By this time we had finished 

Our pineapple ice cream 

And black coffee, 

So we repaired to La Chat Noire, 

The institution 

That is redeeming Bleecker street. 

Maria Rose made herself at home. 

She called for Martini, 

I ordered Chianti. 

I discovered other virtues. 
She know how to eat spaghetti, 
And she could smoke cigarettes 
Without creating an impression of 

Fourteenth street. 
Besides, her powder puff did not 

Her Dignity. 

Apart from this she could dance, 
And she had a knack for rolling 
Those big black eyes. 

An accomplished Girl .... 


But I did not like her. 

Because, after all, 

Omniscience is oppressive. 

And She knew Too Much ! 

— S. G. 


Leaf from a Non-Com.'s Diary 

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I lay in bed aweary, 

With my temperature just seething at a hundred and four, 
While my pulse apace was skipping, and my brow with dew was dripping, 

Suddenly there came a gripping, gripping at my attic door. 

Suddenly there came a gripping, gripping at my noetic door. 

Only that, and nothing more. 

Ah, distinctly I remember, 'twas for me a sad September, 

And my every joint and member aching, quaking, shaking, sore — 

Nervously my eyes were winking, castor oil before me blinking. 

"Swallow fast" — I straightway drinking, dashed the glass upon the floor. 
Then some aspirine and quinine down my throat they rudely pour, 
As I shrieked, "I'll have no more!" 

After that the flu was tapping, at my head I fled his rapping, 

Till a guard yelled "Halt!" and faced me: he was warden of the door. 
"Go to bed!" he hoarsely uttered. "Go at once!" he fiercely muttered, 
While my life was nearly guttered, as I swooned upon the floor, 
There delirious and raving stark upon the midnight floor, 
Stared and screamed, and nothing more. 

I woke next day with groanings, pains unearthly dismal mournings, 

T was dreaming 1 dreams of frenzy, mortal man ne'er dreamed before. 

All my being 1 was blazing, burning, tossing 1 , twisting, writhing, turning, 
How I strove with frantic yearning this weird mystery to explore. 
And the answer to my query came from him who watched the door: 
" 'Tis the flu, and nothing more!" 

Buillion for breakfast, dinner, bullion for supper, thinner, 

With a glass of milk or water, what a martyrdom I bore. 
Soon my limbs were waxing stronger, and I felt that I would no longer 

Be immured within that ward-cot, with a guard outside the door. 

Ah, the rosy day was welcome when I stepped outside the door, 

"Farewall, Flu, for evermore." 

And the fiendish flu has started, to his horrid haunts departed, 

While again I'm hard at study, as I never was before. 
It is now the month December, I'm a S. A. T. C. member, 

With the drill I'm hale and limber, and I eat enough for four. 

And at night I'm sunk in slumber, when the taps wail by the door, 

S. H. C., for ever more. — P. C. 





S. A. T. C. Locals 


Tulane, New Orleans, La., 
Dear Abe: Friday, Nov. 13, 1918 

Your letter to hand, and to hear you tell it, you must have a great 
school. Only wish I could come to Spring Hill and get away from this 
burg. The strain is killing me here. No pep in New Orleans any more. 
Wish I could fly away from this hot air town and the war rumors from 
Tulane's S. A. T. C. What impressed me in your letter was the serious lack 
of sense, and what the ancient Greek gods would term news. All I could 
grasp was a bunch of military phrases, which so oft reminds me of our own 
tin soldiers here. Why don't you get intelligent, and use big words like 
asparagus, garage, chapeau, skirmishes, etc.? As the great Scientist, G. 
Howe Bright, inventor of the Gumless Chewing Gum, would say, "Pari 
Passu, speaking hyperbolically." 

If I could come to Spring Hill to school I would even be willing to sac- 
rifice going to town on Saturday, and also wear clothes that don't fit. You 
have got to be a fighter to be noticed now. A civilian has no more chance 
to be popular than a snake has hips. Why, Abe, just to be around old S. 
H. C. and mingle with fellows like you have at your school must be Para- 
dise (Pair-a-dice) . But, wake up, Archie, you are on your back! No one 
ever comes here now, except to get stewed. Our town is full of men here 
with grips, etc. Since that bunch of New Orleans fellows left here to go to 
Spring Hill, why, life is just one social headache after another. 

I saw the football team when it came over. Boy, those fellows looked 
great ! Old Dicky Seventy Yards Gannon, Eddie, Jean, Jake, Luke and all 
of them. (Beans, eh? I suppose). Matt was telling me about thinking he 
was registered at three hotels, when he was even staying at one of the 
boys' homes that night. Too much coca-cola and excitement isn't good 
away from home. 

D'Antoni told me about his girl in Mobile, Miss Allen Somebody. He 
said to me: "Boy, she loves me. I told her so several times." Some boy, 
that Dan. He claims that the next time he joins the army he is going to 
join the navy. Just like him, isn't it? 

One boy said to me on the side, "Archie don't come. You certainly 
will have to be brave and Braund to stay there. He then went on to tell 
me about Lieutenant-of-the-Snappy-Salute, or something like that, at the 
fire. He said, "He sure did fight the flames, and saved the Hill from having 
a bad fire by his quick work." 

Jean was telling me that if red tape was electricity, Spring Hill would 



be a power plant, and if rumors were furloughs, he would be back home. 
Then, Jake came up, and I asked him about my old friend, Jimmy Miazza, 
and how he was progressing in his studies. He told me about Jimmy, say- 
ing he didn't understand all he knew about trigonometry. He told me 
also about Jimmy losing his facial foliage. Two years' work gone, but you 
have got to keep your head in the game, or Fate will be cruel quite often. 

All of us went together, then, to get a bite to eat, and, would you 
believe it, they all picked up their dirty dishes and started for the kitchen 
to wash them. Force of habit, I suppose. Why, Tumminello couldn't sleep 
in his bed that night, as it was so unusually comfortable, so he went out, 
got a few bricks, put them on the bed, lay down again and went right to 

The clothes they had on were great. What tickled me was the misfits 
they had. Russian's boots unshaved and parted in the middle, long, baggy 
pants and short coats (blouses, I mean) . Luke told me his pants were not 
too short for him, he was in them too far. 

Funny to hear Robbie tell about Bienvenu's medical lab. I under- 
stand the first thing he shows you on entering, to impress you of his med- 



ical knowledge is how he handles an atomizer. I heard he has had two of 
those boys inoculated for everything but the boll weevil, but you can't re- 
fuse, as there are so many things in Uncle Sam's army they can shoot 
you at sunrise for. 

After the game was over, I took the boys riding in my car. Some of 
them got real seasick. Amused to hear them speak of the detail that went 
to Camp Pike (?) and the telegram that they received from the com- 
mandant, reading: "As you were. In place halt. To the rear, march! 
Double time !" That beat me. They had a nice vacation on the government, 
that's all, but it looked like a sick crowd on their return. 

As a lieutenant, Abe, I bet you make a good private. They told me 
about you taking command of the company, and the whole gang rebelled 
on you. You gave them twenty-six commands, and still they didn't move. 
Then, that it is not as bad, tho, as giving, "Platoons, Whoa !" and all that 
junk. Some of the boys don't make much of a success at handling the com- 
pany from all I heard, but such must be the life in the army. 

They tell me that the black mark system is quite painful, but it keeps 
you from wearing spiral leggins, leaving dirty dishes, etc.; but it must be 
hard to be all dressed up and no place to go. 

Unsworth showed me a letter from his girl. She closes by saying, 
Yours till ivory soap sinks." That's rotten, isn't it? I noticed his smile 
was not near half as pretty since he lost his "Dimples." 

Took Walsh, Francis and Colee out to see some girl friends They ac- 
tually had been penned up so long they absolutely didn't know what to say. 
Ihey asked the young ladies, "Isn't it pretty weather we are having*?" and 
hen go on to ask them if they thought it was hotter in the summer or in 

tFuZ% ?l G f^ em alS ° aSk6d ' ' <Isn,t tt a pleasant war we *™ having 

that slaughter ^ ^^ ° f Waterl °° WaS tame COmpared to 

Sure enjoyed the game, and hated to see all the boys leave. Hope the 

oTprln" h 1, *?£** ^ ' Sha11 ^^ my father ' s «— * ^com 
leave! [for aL"" ^ ™ *'" ""*»" that ° Id midni * ht ch ^° 
Can have the company to fall out to some later date. Must close 
Always yours, regardless, ARCHIBALD. 

A A A A 

HASH— Every little thing. 

A A A A 

Glass, after being shot, was asked if it hurt 
He replied: "No, the pain (pane) is gone." 


Fertile Idea 

Why not call Graham "Cracker," although he isn't from Georgia? 
Why not call Campbell "Soup," although he isn't so noisy? 

A A A A 

In the peace parade, Nixon, with his nose all bandaged up, gave the 
crowd the impression he had been to the front line trenches. Ask Nixon — 
his nose knows. 

A A A A 

If you want to see your D'Olive, trade at the canteen. 
I did, why R. U. Poe? 

A A A A 

If salad had no dressing, would Dr. Dreaper ? 

A A A A 

"It's all off! It's all off!" 

"What, the war?" 

"No, the hair on Mulvihill's head." 

A A A A 

If Fourcher caught a fish, would Moselander ? 

A A A A 

Smile, William 

When writing Billie Curren, always use short sentences, so as to use 
lots of periods, as each period is a "Dot." 

A A A A 

A Few Blushes From Ralph 

Alexis says he wished his home state was nearer Georgia. Ralph is 
getting real fond of the Hill now. At present he has cats named after him. 

A A A A 

It was in the swing on the piazza 

That she stoled away the heart of Jimmy Miazza. 

A A A A 

If eggs are worth 60c a dozen, what is Unsworth at a Booth with very 
little money in Walet? 


The battle is lost and won. 

Before us kneel the conquered Hun. 

We have settled up this great fuss, 

But what in the deuce is to become of us ? 

A A A A 

Dolson : He is from Texas, you can't steer him. 

A A A A 

When in doubt when to salute, ask Simpson — he knows ! 

A A A A 

Popular Books of the Day — By Old Authors 

The Turkey Was in the Stove — Browning, 
if the Steak is Tough — Chaucer. 

The Tramp Sat in a Box Car; His Feet They Touched the 
Ground — Longfellow. 

Soldiers are Fond of Eating — Bacon. 

Army Life is Great — Scott. 

Staub's House — Dickens, Howitt, Burns. 

Dr. Rush's Badger Fight — Poe. 

Why Did Charles Lever? Because Samuel Lover. 

A A A A 

Lieutenant Braund — Did you clean this rifle? 

Private — Yes. 

Lieutenant Braund — Yes, what? 

Private — Yes ; I cleaned it. 

Lieutenant Braund — Do you call that clean? 

Private — No. 

Lieutenant Braund — No, what? 

Private (after deep thought) : — No clean. 

A A A A 

S. A. T. C. Means 

Springhillians Are The Cheese. 

Satisfy All The Company. 

Stick At The Commissions. 

Stay And Take Cold. 

Sit A Trifle Closer. 

Save All The Change. 

Sincerely And Truly Commandant. 


Confound the kaiser! He put us in the war, and then he kept us 
out of it. 

k k k k 

B ig and strong enough to control all men. 

R ight out of a Fashion Book. 

A lways on the job, but then, 

U seless to argue when he does look. 

N ow and then tells a joke or two. 

D on't find his equal because they are few. That's Lieutenant Braund. 

'Have you an I. D. R. ?" 

'Yes, several ideas, but the government won't accept them. 

Chemistry Poetry 

A farmer into a laboratory strayed, 

It's true, but sad to tell, 
He mixed some glycerine with N02, 

And blew the J2L. 

k k k k 

Poor little Willie is dead and gone, 

His face we will see no more, 
For what he thought was H20, 

Was H2S04. 

k k k k 

Heard From One of the Workmen on the Place 

"Boss man, this war is terrible. I'm sure 'fraid of them big guns. You 
can run all day, and then they shoot you just at supper time." 

k k k k 

'Tis Usual 

Report of Squad No. 4 — so often heard. 
Kelly, Petree, Blankenstein sick, 
Sassale A. W. 0. L. 
Dimmock, orderly room. 
Milam, S. 0. L. 


Famous Bulls of History 

John Bull 
Bull Durham 
Sitting Bull 
Bull Run 
Just plain Bull. 

A A A A 

The boys on return from Gulfport were delighted with the eats, and 
the luxury of having preserves for supper. Conlon says, "We have a jam 
every time we go into the mess hall." 

k k k k 

"Ask and ye shall receive" is one of Lieutenant Butterfield's quota- 
tions. Fair one, it is not so with town permission, for then he says S. A. 
T. C. (Stay At The Camp). Oh, boy! 

k k k k 

In girlish admiration, one of "Shag" Cashin's girls in town remarked, 
"Oh, isn't he sweet? I love every bone in his head!" 

k k k k 

Corporal Grizzard, Ambassador to Japan, better known as the Catsup 
King, will control all future issues of the steel trust after the war, if his 
squad permits. 

k k k k 

Judas McEnerny and "Cot" Grehan were heard to say that after they 
received their discharges they will beat it once more back to their old 
haunts on Napoleon avenue. "Laak, Jake, who's here ! Two coca-colas for 
'the two of us now.' " 

k k k k 

Oberkirch is sorry he won't be here to make the basket ball team this 
year. He played against our boys last year, but wants to show these fel- 
lows here he don't mind playing with them, too. Not selfish at all ! 

k k k k 

Boudousquie spent Sunday at home, and someone told him he looked 
just like a soldier. 

A A A A 

Foy received a gold hat cord from his girl, saying it looked better than 
the blue one he had. Walter says sergeants don't give him much of an 


What was the matter with Callahan last Saturday? He was playing 
football down by the lake all by himself. 

Bosarge decided to speak French thru his nose to keep from wearing 
out his teeth. Economy, by Heck! 

Spring Hill's Latest Song Hit 

*T did want to be the president — I don't care to any more, 
I like to be a sergeant in the Students' Army Training Corps." 

k k k k 

Professor in Trig. Class — Now, boys, we are going over this work quite 
rapidly, and we shall not delay on anything except that which is necessary 
to delay on (De Leon). 

k k k k 

Sullivan (on guard duty) : Halt, Sherman, who goes there?" 

k k k k 

Sherman agrees with his ancestor as to what he said about war. 

k k k k 
Bright Lights In History 

Teacher — Can anyone tell me where the Declaration of Independence 
was signed? 

Skinner — Yes, sir — at the bottom, like a letter. 

k k k k 

Teacher — In what battle was Augustus Adolphus killed? 
Gianelloni — In his last battle, I suppose. 

k k k k 

Yau can give all my toys 

To some poor girls and boys, 

But bring back my S. A. T. C. brother to me. (Dimmock's song) . 

k k k k 

The Vegetable Romance 

I went down to the Onion station the other day Tomato a girl named 
Olive, as I had a Date with her, and she was a Peach ; but when I got there, 
old Gus (asparagus) was trying to Cabbage her, and Gus was a regular dead 


Beet. She was the Apple of my eye, and as Gus was a Lemon, I didn't 
think they made a good Pear. I succeeded in getting her away from him 
and down the street we went. We then bumped into the Apple sisters — 
Cora and Seeda. They joined us, and I spent my whole Celery on them. 
One of them said, "Lettuce Turnip this block here." But one girl refused, 
as she had a Corn on her foot. We started to enter a restaurant, but a 
friend advised me not to go in, telling me water was drunk in there, the 
lights were all lit, the tables were full, two Peaches were pickled, and a 
chicken stewed, so we ate an egg and scrambled home. 

A A A A 

De Leon and Dorothy, it is understood, have been elected King and 
Queen of the Infant-ry. 

A A A A 

"Nigger" Murray has received quite a few congratulations lately, but he 
and Josie are the only two who seem to know why. 

A A A A 

Assignments When We Go To Civil Life 

Skinner, Raphael — Sousa's Band. 

Skinner, George — Mayor of Lucedale. 

Cunningham, Major — In charge of the kaiser. 

Mahoney, V. — Boy Scouts. 

Andre, Paul — Photographer. 

D'Antoni, S. — Badger Trainer. 

Hails, T. — Penitentiary. 

Ray, J. — Millinery Department. 

Gianelloni — Little yard. 

A A A A 

If you think our paper good, 

From beginning to end, 
Then, we have found the good we have sought for, 

And we hope we have found a friend. 

If you think our paper rotten, 

Just keep it to yourself, 
And get around and hustle 
To edit one yourself. 

A A A A 

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, is the sincere good wish of 
the Editorial Staff of The Springhillian. 


If about a month ago as the terrible epidemic of influenza was at its height, one 
would have ventured to remark that the Purple and White were to have a successful sea- 
son, he would not have been taken seriously. But the unexpected has come to pass. 
Raw material has been moulded into a successful and well-oiled machine, and the Purple 
and White has upheld the Old Spring Hill traditions. 

Marion, our conqueror of last year, failed to score, and only ill-luck kept us from 

The famous Tulane Camp Martin team was outplayed in half of the game, and 
only succeeded in defeating our light team in the second half. 

The Gulfport Naval Reserve, it is true, defeated us, but by a slim one-point mar- 
in. That victory can be attributed to Stegeman, the Chicago star, who intercepted a 
pass and ran the length of the field for the touchdown which beat us. In the Thanks- 
giving game, though opposed by many All-Southern and All-Western men, we succeeded 
in holding the heavy Guifport eleven to a scoreless tie. Despite the loss of the 
best quarterback Spring Hill has ever had — Ed O'Dowd — and the loss of four other let- 
ter men, including the old reliable tackle and captainelect, "Bobo" Curren, and Joe 
Royer, the star end, Harold and Frank Winling, our team this year was one of the best 
Spring Hill has had in the last few years. Luckily, new and promising material ap- 
peared for practice. 

In the back field, Dick Gannon, with his brilliant end runs, almost made us forget 
Ed O'Dowd. Luke, the old reliable, half stepped into Ed's shoes at quarter, and ran 
the team with the same ability as had his brother the three years before. Matt Rice 
was back at half. Robby at full was Spring Hill's big star this year. Robby's playing 
saved the Thanksgiving game, and his repeated bucks for long gains threatened the 
Navy's goal more than once. 

In Walet and Joe Fabacher, we had a pair of big, game, strong ends. Walet espe- 
cially gives promise of making a great football player. Unsworth and John Fabacher 
are big, fast men, and sure tacklers. Reough and Tumminello are experienced players, 
and could be depended on to stop any buck that came their way. Walsh at guard gives 
promise of developing into a good man. 

At center we had Eddie Reed, the nearest approach to Ratterman that we have 
ever seen. Eddie is an experienced, cool and hard fighting player. D'Antoni, whenever 
given the opportunity, plays a steady, reliable game at guard or tackle. In the back 
field we had Francis ready to step in whenever he was needed, and Colee at end, both 
experienced players. 

In the scrimmages, Shirer, Straub and Miazza showed up well against the varsity. 
Quite a number reported for practice every afternoon, and this in view of the stren- 
uous schedule followed, is all the more deserving of praise, as it necessitated the giving 
up of quite a bit of their infrequent recreation. 

Captain Rush was out there as often as his practice and duties would allow him, 
always doing his best to see Spring Hill turn out a successful football team. The S. A. 


T. C. men and the High School boys stood by their team, the latter especially showing 
up well under the leadership of our cheerleader, Arthur Emrich. All this, coupled with 
the untiring efforts of Captain Rush, and the faithfulness of the team, resulted in what 
we had all hoped for — a successful season. 


On November 9, Spring Hill and Marion, historic enemies from time immemorial, 
met on the gridiron, but this contest, characterized as is usual when the Purple and 
White and the Orange and Black meet, by the hard-fought, clean playing, resulted in a 
scoreless tie. 

Time and again did Spring Hill on Gannon's brilliant end runs, and Kearns', Robin- 
son's and Rice's plunging sweep down the field within striking distance of Marion's 
goal, and each time a fumble or some other bit of ill luck kept the Purple and White 
from scoring. Only once did Marion threaten to score, and that opportunity amounted 
to naught, as the Spring Hill line held Marion for downs after several brilliantly exe- 
cuted passes, Reeder to Jones, had carried them to the ten-yard line. The features of 
the game were the end runs of Gannon, the bucking of Robinson, and Kearns and Uns- 
worth's tackling for Spring Hill, and the playing of Jones at left end for Marion. 


Bowman kicks off to Gannon, who runs the ball up fifteen yards; Rice goes thru 
tackle for one yard; Rice gains another yard thru left guard; Gannon fails to gain on an 
end run; Captain Robinson punts to Marion's twenty-yard line; on the next play Mc- 
Wharter goes thru tackle for a five-yard gain; Malcolm bucks for four yards; Bowman 
bucks, but fails to gain. McWhorter goes five yards around right end; Reeder goes 
thru right guard for two yards; Malcolm fails to gain on a buck; McWharter goes 
around right end for one yard, is tackled, and fumbles; O'Dowd falls on the ball; Rice 
bucks one yard thru right tackle; Robinson goes four yards thru right guard; O'Dowd 
goes one yard around right end; Marion is penalized 10 yards for being off sides; Rob- 
inson in three successive bucks goes seven yards, and the ball goes over on downs. 
Bowman punts to Gannon, who runs the punt up 10 yards; Rice and O'Dowd fail to 
gain in three bucks; Fabacher punts 40 yards to Malcolm, who is downed in his tracks; 
Malcolm goes one yard on an end run; Marion is again penalized 10 yards for being off 
side; Bowman kicks to Gannon, who runs up the punt 20 yards; Rice plunges thru right 
guard for a 7 yard gain. The first quarter ends with the ball in the middle of the field, 
in Spring Hill's possession. 

Second Quarter 

Kearns replaces O'Dowd; Robinson goes to quai erback, and Kearns to fullback; 
Kearns gains 4 yards in two bucks thru right tackle; on a trick play, Rice plunges 11 
yards thru the bewildered Marion line; Captain Robinson goes thru right tackle for 4 
yards; Kearns bucks thru right guard for 2 yards; an attempted pass, Robinson to 
Walet, is intercepted by Bowman, who carries the ball 20 yards and is tackled by 
Reough; Malcolm goes 1 yard thru left guard; McWharter gains 2 yards thru tackle- 
Bowman bucks and fumbles, and the ball is recovered by Robinson; Gannon fails to gain 
°" an , end '" Un; Gannon g°es 1 yard around left end; Marion is again penalized for being 
off side; Rice plunges thru right guard for (5 yards; Robinson plunges thru the same 
place for 3 more yards; on the next play, Robinson fumbles and recovers, but loses I 


yard; Rice, on an attempted buck, fumbles, and recovers; Kearns, in two bucks, goes 
thru right guard for 4 yards; Robinson fumbles and recovers, but fails to gain on an 
attempted buck; Gannon loses 1 yard on an end run; the ball goes over on downs; Mc- 
Wharter gains one yard thru right guard; on the next play, Malcolm fumbles and Walet, 
of Spring Hill, falls on the ball. The first half ends with the ball in Spring Hill's pos- 

Third Quarter 

O'Dowd replaces Kearns; Robinson goes to fullback, and O'Dowd to quarterback; 
Robinson punts to Butler, who is downed in his tracks; Malcolm fumbles, and Robinson 
recovers; Robinson bucks center for 1 yard; Robinson bucks and fumbles, but recov- 
ers; Gannon gains 2 yards around right end; Gannon gains 2 yards more around left 
end; the ball goes over on downs; Bowman bucks 2 yards thru left guard; Malcolm 
gains 1 yard thru left tackle; Bowman gains 3 yards thru right guard; Bowman punts 
to Gannon, who gains two yards before he is downed; Robinson bucks center for 3 
yards; Robinson punts to Reeder, who returns the ball 5 yards; Paines gains 2 yards on 
a plunge thru right tackle; Paines gains another yard on a buck thru center. Here the 
Purple and White line is tightened, and Molcolm's buck fails to gain; Paines punts to 
Gannon, who runs the punt up to Spring Hill's 20-yard line before he is downed; Gan- 
non skirts right end on a spectacular run for 45 yards; Captain Robinson bucks 5 yards 
thru right guard; Robinson gains 3 more yards on another buck; Gannon loses 5 yards 
on an end run; Robinson kicks to Paines, who is downed in his tracks by Unsworth; 
Paines gains 3 yards thru right guard; Paines punts to Gannon, who returns the ball 
2 yards. The third quarter ended with the ball in Spring Hill's possession in the mid- 
dle of the field. 

Fourth Quarter 

Rice pried open the last quarter by bucking center for a 1-yard gain; Robinson fails 
to gain on a buck; Gannon gains 1 yard on an end run; a perfectly executed pass, 
O'Dowd to Gannon, nets 20 yards; Robinson twice bucks center for a 4-yard gain; Gan- 
non bucks right guard for 1 yard. Here a good chance to score was lost, as Robinson, 
on the next play, failed to catch the inaccurately thrown ball, and was tackled before 
he could move. The ball went over to Marion. Paines is thrown for a 1-yard loss on 
an attempted buck; Paines bucks 2 yards; Malcolm's buck fails to gain; Paines punts to 
Gannon, who runs up the punt 20 yards; O'Dowd gains 3 yards around left end; Gannon 
fails to gain on an end run; Robinson punts 40 yards to McWharter; Malcolm plunges 
thru left guard for 1 yard; McWharter is thrown for a 10-yard loss; Paines kicks, but 
the punt is blocked by one of his own men, and the ball bounces back into his hands; 
before he was downed, he had circled left end for a 7-yard gain; a pass, Reeder to 
Jones, nets 25 yards, and places Marion nearer the goal than at any other time during 
the game, but the old Purple and White line was impenetrable, and Paines' buck failed 
to gain. Here, Referee Maxon's whistle ended the game. 


SPRING HILL— Reed, center; Walsh, left guard; Unsworth, left tackle; Joe Fa- 
bacher, left end; Boudousquie, right guard; John Fabacher, right tackle; Wallet, left 
tackle; O'Dowd, quarterback; Rice, left halfback; Gannon, right halfback; Robinson 
(iCapt.), fullback. 

MARION— Williams, center; Taylor, left guard; Butler, left tackle; Jones (Capt.), 
right guard; Frenchmann, right guard; Coates, right tackle; Daniels, right end; 


Reeder, quarterback; McWharter, left halfback; Malcolm, right halfback; Bowman, full- 

Referee — Maxon (Cornell). Umpire — Adams (Alabama). 

Head Linesman — Courtney (Alabama). 

Substitutes — Spring Hill: Reough for Boudousquie; Tuminello for John Fabacher; 
Kearns for O'Dowd. Marion: Paines for Bowman. 


Before the largest crowd of the season, the Tulane Camp Martin team defeated the 
lighter Spring Hill eleven by a score of 32 to 0. Despite the fact that Spring Hill 
clearly outplayed Tulane in the first half, the Purple and White team was unable to 
cross the Greenbacks' goal. On two occasions, Spring Hill was on the five-yard line, 
and both times a costly fumble prevented the hard fighting Spring Hill team from 
scoring. The one outstanding star of the game was Dick Gannon, Spring Hill's left 
halfback. His spectacular seventy-five yard run was one of the best exhibitions of 
broken field running ever witnessed in New Orleans. Gentling, Colee, Wight and Wil- 
liams were particular stars for the Olive and Blue, while Robinson, Gannon, Kearns 
and O'Dowd starred for Spring Hill. 


SPRING HILL — Reed, center; Boudousquie, right guard; Unsworth, right tackle; 
Wallet, right end; Walsh, left guard; Tuminello, left tackle; Fabacher, left end; O'Dowd, 
quarterback; Gannon, left halfback; Kearns, right halfback; Robinson, fullback. 

TULANE — Koonce, center; Thornton, right guard; Bienvenu, right tackle; Wight, 
right end; Linsfield, left guard; Walling, left tackle; Colee, left end; Brown, quarter- 
back; Gentling, left halfback; Field, right halfback; Williams, fullback. 

Substitutes — Spring Hill: D'Antoni for Unsworth; Rice for Kearns. Tulane: Bochs 
for Field; Saunders for Thornton; McLeod for Wadling; Richeson for Williams. 

Touchdowns — Tulane: Wight, Gentling, Williams, Colee (2). Goals from touch- 
downs, Coiee (2). 

Spring Hill _ 0—0 

Tulane 6 19 7—32 

Officials — Smith, referee; Flanagan, umpire; Teveney, field judge and timer; Chap- 
man, head linesman. 

Game In Detail 

Williams booted the ball 30 yards to Gannon, who ran it back 10 yards; then 
followed the line plunging of Gannon, Robinson, Kearns and O'Dowd until the ball was 
on the Greenbacks' 14-yard line; a touchdown seemed imminent, but just at this criti- 
cal moment Kearns fumbled, and a Tulane man fell on the ball; Gentling on an off- 
tackle buck, broke thru the Spring Hill line and ran 40 yards before he was brought 
down by Gannon; a forward pass, Williams to Gentling, netted 10 yards; Field and 
Colee bucked tackle for gains, totaling 35 yards; with the ball on the 5-yard line, Wil- 
liams shot a pass to Wight, who was standing behind Spring Hill's line; Williams failed 
to kick goal. 

On the kick-off, Dick Gannon made Tulane University Corps look like high school 
players when he gathered in Williams' kick while on the dead run, and dashed right 
down the center of the field thru the entire Tulane team for a run of 75 yards, carry- 
r*«j the ball to Tulane's 20 yard line; two short line plunges by Kearns and Robinson 


gained 10 yards, but here within only 10 yards of the goal line, the Olive and Blue line 
held, and the ball went over on downs. Score: Spring Hill 0, Tulane 6. 

Second Quarter 

Spring Hill did not become discouraged then, but tore into Tulane with great vim; 
A forward pass from Williams, intended for Wight, was intercepted by O'Dowd, who 
carried the ball 10 yards to Tulane's 45 yard line; a well executed pass, O'Dowd to Gan- 
non, gained 20 yards; Robinson, on two line plunges, tore thru the Tulane line for 15 
yards; a cleverly executed lateral pass, O'Dowd to Gannon, gained 10 yards; Robinson 
bucked left guard for 5 yards, and was stopped on the Tulane 4-yard line; here Dick 
Gannon was given the job of piercing Tulane's defense, but fumbled at this critical 
moment, and Spring Hill's golden opportunity melted away. The second quarter ended 
with the ball in Tulane's possession in the middle of the field. Score: Spring Hill 0, 
Tulane 6. 

Third Quarter 

After three minutes of play, the heavy Tulane team scored its second touchdown; 
end runs by Gentling and Field and a 15-yard buck by Colee spelled the tally; Williams 
again failed to kick goal; end runs by Gentling, and bucks by Williams and Colee 
brought the ball to the 15-yard line; Colee tore thru tackle for a 15-yard gain and a 
touchdown; Williams for a third time failed to kick goal; Tulane's fourth touchdown was 
scored, when Williams intercepted a pass intended for Wallet, and ran 25 yards for a 
touchdown; Colee kicked goal. Score: Spring Hill 0, Tulane 25. 

Fourth Quarter 

Spring Hill, not discouraged by Tulane's 25-point lead, thundered down the field 
to Tulane's 5-yard line, and fumbled; a Tulane man recovered the ball; Williams punt- 
ed out of the danger zone, Gannon receiving the kick; a pass, O'Dowd to Gannon, was 
intercepted by Gentling, who ran forty yards for a touchdown; Colee again kicked goal. 
Here Referee Smith's whistle ended the game. Score: Tulane 32, Spring Hill 0. 


The game was played in Gulfport, at the Naval Station, and started at 3 p. m. 
Navy kicked off; Gannon received it and went for 30 yards; after that Spring Hill 
bucked their 10 yards, and after a succession of end runs and line plays, brought the 
ball to Navy's 10-yard line, where a pass was intercepted by the Navy, and Stagman 
went 97 yards for a touchdown; Stagman kicked goal. Score, 7 to 0. 

Second Quarter 

Having the choice, Spring Hill decided to receive; Gannon receives ball on 15-yard 
line and carries it to the 30-yard line; the first play was an end run by Robinson, which 
proved successful, having gained 10 yards; after a few bucks and forward passes, the 
bail was brought to the Navy's 20-yard line, where another pass from O'Dowd to Wallet 
netted Spring Hill's first touchdown of the season; Gannon failed to kick goal. Score: 
Navy 7, Spring Hill 6. 

Third Quarter 

Navy received, and carries ball 10 yards; line plunges and end runs gave them 10 


yards more; here they lost ball on a fumble; Fabacher recovers for Spring Hill; here 
Spring Hill began playing real football, and brought the ball to Navy's 5-yard line, 
where Robinson, on off-tackle buck, took the ball over for Spring Hill's second touch- 
down; Gannon kicks goal. Score 13-7, Spring Hill's favor. Third quarter ended with 
the ball in possession of the Navy. 

Fourth Quarter 

Stagman started the quarter with long end runs, and brought the ball to Spring 
Hill's 30-yard line; Boudousquie, having been hurt, was taken out of the game, and 
Tuminello substituted for him at right guard; after a few line plunges, Navy gains their 
10 yards; in the last two minutes of play, a forward pass from Stagman to Baker 
proved successful, and Baker netted the second touchdown for the Navy; Stagman 
kicks goal. Score, 14 to 13 in favor of Navy. 

There were many people who witnessed the game, and it proved very exciting all 
the way through. The Navy's band furnished interesting music for the crowd. 


On a wet and soggy field, the Spring Hill College and Gulfport Naval Reserves 
teams battled to a scoreless tie. Due to the condition of the field, both teams in the 
first half confined their operations to bucks, with a forward pass here and there. In 
the second half, the Sailors used the pass almost exclusively, but to no advantage, as 
the Spring Hill ends and backs R.obinson in particular, were too alert, and broke up 
every pass that came their way. 

Though the game was a scoreless tie, Spring Hill must be credited with a moral 
victory for holding their opponents, several of whom were All-Southern and All-West- 
ern men, down as they did. 

The outstanding stars of the game were Robinson of Spring Hill and Bridges of 
the Naval Reserves. On the offensive, both men were about on par, but on the defen- 
sive, Robinson easily outclassed his opponent, especially in his ability to intercept and 
break up forward passes; Bridges shone on his long end runs, but Robinson on every 
occasion would buck for ten and fifteen yards. 

Walet at right end; Reough at tackle, and Reed at center were the other stars for 
Spring Hill, while Peabody at end, and Allen at fullback played the best game for 

The attendance, despite the inclement weather conditions, was on a par with that 
of past Thanksgiving games. 


SPRING HILL — Reed, center; Walsh, elft guard; Tumminello, right guard; Uns- 
worth, left tackle; Reough, right tackle; Fabacher, left end; Walet, right end; O'Dowd, 
quarter; Rice, left halfback; Gannon, right halfback; Robinson, fullback. 

GULFPORT NAVAL RESERVES— Shepardson, center; Rogers, left guard; Ben- 
son, right guard; Verfurth, left tackle; Finnerty, right tackle; Keyes, left end; Peabody, 
right end; Bridges, quarter; Thompson, left halfback; Kidd, right halfback; Allen, 

Officials — Referee: Wilson (Alabama); umpire, Maxon (Cornell); head linesman, 
Stegeman (Chicago); time-keeper, Lt. Braud (Wabash). 

Time jf Quarters — 10 minutes. 


The Game In Detail 

Navy won the toss and chose to receive; Captain Robinson kicks 30 yards to 
Bridges, who runs up the kick 10 yards; Kidd bucks 10 yards; Kidd gains 3 yards 
through left guard; Navy is penalizes 5 yards for holding; a pass, Bridges to Allen, 
nets 7 yards; Allen punts 30 yards to Gannon; Robinson returns the punt; Allen is 
thrown for a 5-yard loss by Walet; a pass from Bridges, intended for Allison, is inter- 
cepted by Robinson, who goes 5 yards; Robinson bucks for a 10-yard gain; Robinson, in 
three bucks, gains 7 yards; Rice plunges through center for a 4-yard gain; Robinson 
punts 30 yards to Bridges, who goes 5 yards; Kidd bucks 1 yard; Thompson fails to 
gain on a buck; on the next play, Reough breaks through the line and throws Kidd for 
a 5-yard loss; a pass, Bridges to Peabody, is broken up, and the ball goes over on downs; 
Robinson fumbles, and recovers, but fails to gain; a lateral pass, Gannon to Robinson, 
's cleverly executed and nets 7 yards. The first quarter ends with the ball on Spring 
Hill's 35 yard line. 

Second Quarter 

A lateral pass, O'Dowd to Robinson, nets 7 yards; Robinson fails to gain on a buck; 
Gannon is thrown for a loss by Allen; on a trick play, Gannon gains 5 yards; a pass 
from O'Dowd intended for Walet is intercepted by Allen; Kidd fails to gain on a buck. 
Bridges rounds right end for a 7-yard gain; Allen kicks 40 yards to Gannon; O'Dowd 
skirts right end for a gain of 10 yards; Robinson is thrown for a loss by Peabody; Rob- 
inson punts 40 yards to Bridges, who runs up the punt 15 yards; Bridges fumbles, and 
recovers, but fails to gain; Bridges goes around right end for 15 yards; Bridges fails 
to gain on a buck; Allen punts 30 yards to Gannon; Robinson plunges through guard 
for a 5-yard gain; Robinson gains 10 yards through center. The second quarter ends 
with the ball in Spring Hill's possession on their own forty-yard line. Score, 0-0. 

Third Quarter 

Allen of the Navy kicks off to Reough, who goes 5 yards; Rice bucks 5 yards; Rob- 
inson punts 30 yards to Bridges, who returns the ball ten yards; Bridges fails to gain 
on an end run; Bridges goes around right end for a ten-yard gain; Spring Hill is pen- 
alized 15 yards for coaching from the sidelines; Kidd bucks 5 yards; Kidd fails to gain 
on a buck; two successive passes, Bridges to Pearbody, are broken up; the ball goes 
ever to Spring Hill on downs; Robinson fails to gain on a buck; Robinson punts 30 yards 
to Bridges, who goes 5 yards; Allen fails to gain on a buck; Bridges fails to gain on a 
buck; Kidd is thrown for a loss by Walet; Allen punts to Gannon, who goes 10 yards; 
a lateral pass, Robinson to Gannon, is fumbled by Gannon, who recovers; the ball goes 
over on downs; Allen is thrown for a loss by Walet; Allen punts to Gannon; Robinson, 
on a buck, breaks through center for 15 yards; Robinson fails to gain on a buck; Rob- 
inson bucks 7 yards; Robinson punts 40 yards to Bridges, who is downed in his tracks; 
Thompson bucks 5 yards; Thompson bucks 2 yards; Bridges gains 5 yards on a buck; 
Bridges fails to gain on an end run. The third quarter ends with the ball in Navy's pos- 
session in the middle of the field. 

Fourth Quarter 

Bridges goes through tackle for a 15 yard gain; Allen bucks 4 yards; Bridges goes 
4 yards through guards; Bridges gains 1 yard on a buck; Bridges fails to gain on an end 
run; the ball goes over to Spring Hill; Robinson bucks 10 yards; Robinson gains 1 yard 
through guard; Robinson fails to gain on a buck; the ball goes over to Navy; an at- 


tempted pass, Bridges to Keyes, is broken up by O'Dowd; Allen gains 8 yards in two 
successive bucks; Kidd fails to gain on a buck; Allen bucks 2 yards; three attempted 
passes, Bridges to Peabody, are broken up by O'Dowd, Rice and Robinson; the ball 
goes over to Spring Hill on downs; Robinson fails to gain on a buck; O'Dowd fails to 
gain on a buck; Robinson goes 1 yard through left guard; Robinson punts to Bridges, 
who runs up the punt 30 yards; an attempted pass, Bridges to Peabody, is broken up; 
Allen bucks 9 yards; Bridges goes 7 yards around right end; the Navy is penalized 15 
yards for holding; D'Antoni replaces Walsh at left guard for Spring Hill; Allen goes 10 
yards around left end; Bridges goes 15 yards around right end; the ball goes over to 
Spring Hill on downs; Robinson goes 2 yards through left guard. Here Referee Wil- 
son's whistle ends the game with the ball in Spring Hill's possession in the middle of 
the field. Score, 0-0. 


For the first time in its history, the Junior Yard team was really a High School 
team. Prospects for a winning eleven loomed bright, and under the coaching of Mr. 
Ruggeri, S.J., the team, captained by Morgan, rapidly developed into a splendid ma- 
chine. The season turned out somewhat disappointing, as the flu broke up the sched- 
ule badly, and overconfidence caused us to lose one important game. 

S. A. T. C. Volunteers 7, Juniors 

Our first game was with the pick of the volunteers in the S. A. T. C. department. 
Against a much heavier team, numbering several S. H. squad in its lineup, the Juniors 
played a splendid game, being beaten only by an intercepted forward pass. 

U. M. S. 19, Juniors 

Spurred to a high degree of confidence by their fine showing against the S. A. T. 
C, the Juniors tackled their old foe, University Military School. The Wright's boys 
sprung a surprise on us by playing a game far ahead of their ordinary calibre, whereas 
the Purple and White team fell miserably before their scrappier opponents. 

For U. M. S., the playing of McPhillips, Kirkpatrick and Hays stood out promi- 
nently, though the whole team played wonderful ball and deserved to win. The Juniors 
were simply run off their feet, and showed none of the fighting spirit so proper to the 
little yard. Putman and Baquie alone stood out in splendid defense against the Red 
Team, and deserve credit for the game fight they put up, unaided by their teammates. 
The forward pass accounted for the first two touchdowns, our boys showing a lament- 
able weakness in breaking up the aerial attack. A variety of criss-cross and delayed 
bucks put up the final counter for U. M. S. 

The Lineup 

U. M. S. — Fonde, right end; Williams, right tackle; Scott, right guard; Gaillard, 
center; Lambert, left guard; Britton, left tackle; McGowin, left end; Hayes, quarter- 
back; McPhillips, right halfback; Kirkpatrick, left halfback; Roe, fullback. 

Juniors — Rainey, Brossier, right end; Putman, right tackle; Burguieres, right 
guard; Morgan, center; Thompson, left guard; Baquie, left tackle; Fitzgibbons, Kelly, 


left end; Allen, Hogan, quarterback; Rainey, right halfback; Bogue, left halfback; Levy, 
Barnett, fullback. 

Touchdowns — Hays (2), Kirkpatrick. 

Juniors 0, Varsity Scrubs 

Disappointed with their recent showing, and eager to make good with their sup- 
porters, the Juniors accepted the challenge of the Varsity Scrubs in a splendid, hard- 
fought game, and held their older, heavier and more experienced opponents to a score- 
less tie. The Scrubs were the best team that could be picked outside of the Spring Hill 
Varsity eleven, and numbered such men as Grizzard, Schweers, Straub, Wells and De 
Leon on its line. The backfield was composed of Dick Williard, Gianelloni, Milan, Mur- 
ray, and later McShane, and to say that the Juniors' line held against the attacks of 
these well known backs is the highest praise that can be given. The High School team 
had proved its worth, every player showing plenty of grit, and good football knowledge. 

Juniors 12, Jesuits 

Our last game, before we go to press, was a grand triumph for the Purple and 
White. Jesuits came to Mobile with a splendid reputation, still in the race for state 
championship of Louisiana. The Juniors went in determined to wipe out past defeats 
and show the supremacy of Alabama over her neighbor state. 

Jesuits' received the kick-off, and after making two first downs, punted out of 
danger. Spring Hill took the ball, and by steady line plunging and short end runs 
carried the ball down to their opponent's one-yard line as time was called for first quar- 
ter. Barnett, Allen and Bogue had been the consistent ground-gainers, though every 
inch of the field was yielded grudgingly and four downs were always required to make 
the necessary ten yards. 

The second quarter opened with Barnett plunging over the line for the Juniors' 
first score. Levy failed to kick the goal. The rest of this period was practically a 
punting duel in which Putman had the better of his opponent. Neither team seemed able 
to solve the other's defense till a few minutes before the half ended. Here Barnett, who 
was a tower of strength, both on offense and defense, smashed off tackle and made 
forty yards. The Jesuits' line held, but on the last down the Juniors faked an end-run 
from punt formation, placing the ball on Jesuits' twelve-yard line. Allen then took it 
across on three off-tackie bucks for the second score. No goal was kicked. 

The first half ended with the Juniors ahead, 12-0. Would they be able to hold out 
against these heavier odds? The final score showed their endurance and pluck. 

Juniors received, to start the third period, but were soon forced to punt. Another 
exchange of punts followed, giving Jesuits' the ball on their own twenty-yard line. Here 
they started a terrific drive, pushing the Purple and White line before them till they had 
worked their way to Spring Hill's two-yard line for a first down. Encouraged by the 
cries of their rooters, and alive now to the threatening danger, the Juniors braced them- 
selves and took away the ball on downs. Using a mixture of straight bucks and trick 
plays, Spring Hill then moved steadily down to their opponent's twenty-yard line, only 
to lose the ball on a fumble. The ball then zig-zagged up and down the field, neither 
side being in position to score again. 

The entire Jesuit team played a fine game. It is hard to pick the stars, but Barnett 
was the backbone of the Purple and White offense. His line smashing was superb, and 
as interference man he opened up a veritable avenue for Allen, who repeatedly made 
substantial gains off tackle and around end. Too much credit cannot be given to Baquie 


,-sy; • 



High School Foot Ball Teartv 



"June B xxAs" 


for his heady work at quarter, though, indeed, the entire backfield exhibited a flash 
of wonderful football. The defense was not less sterling than the backfield work Mor 
gan, Yarbrough, Putnam and Gilmore doing yeomanic service on the line. For J suits 
D Anton, Hart Palermo and Prendergast outdid their fellows in play. The contest' 
was enjoyable for its fine sportsmanship and general all-around good playing 

The Lineup 

Juniors-Chalin right end; Drouet, right tackle; Barker, right guard- Hanicken 
center; Palermo left guard; Ching, -left tackle; Prendergast, left end; Hart quarter 
back; Brown, right halfback; D'Antoni, fullback. ' quarter " 

Jesuits-Levy right end; Gilmore, right tackle; Yarbrough, right guard- Morgan 

center; Thompson^ left guard; Putman, left tackle; Kelly, left end; Ba qu fe quarSck 

Allen, right halfback; Bogue, left halfback; Barnett, fullback quarterback, 

Touchdowns— Barnett, Allen. Referee— R Willard fS it ri tt • 
/a n n tt„„j t- tt , winara (b. tt. C). Umpire — Gannon 

(b. H. L.) Head Linesman— Hebert, Jesuits. 

The June-Bugs 

It would hardly be fair to close the chapter on Junior yard football wi+v,™ * 
tioning the June Bugs. Their hard work and'willingness To 1^X^25 
abi y have made them the finest team of youngsters seen here n many year Gr a 
difficulty is experienced in getting games, U. M. S. being the only school to have a 

sT WeTok T d H : JUne " BU ? S rGCently met the latter and ^Ti em unde" 
75-0. We look forward to many future varsity stars from the June-Bug ranks for 

SS;t: d Tobin are s rv° make a name if theh - —it 

C^£^ord,?e^ T. M^r B rt T^ ^^ ^ G " 
Hardie, O'Shee, Druhan, Roth, Bogue ' McKmnon ' Dlmit ^ barton, 


Andrepont, Oscar 

Ball, Caron 
Ball, Louis E. 
Barker, W. E. 
Bassich, Cyril 
Battle, B. B. 
Baxter, Rosseau 
Bauer, J. T. 
Beary, Andrew T. 
Bienvenu, Lionel 
Becker, John T. 
Becker, Pierre J. 
Becker, James A. 
Bernard, Joseph 
Berry, W. Dabney 
Berthelot, Joseph A. 
Bierman, Edward 
Blankenstein, Edward 
Blackwell, Felix 
Bloch, Arnold K. 
Boagni, Paul 
Bonnabel, Henry J. 
Bonneval, de Henry 
Bonvillain, Charles 
Bourgeois, le Paul 
Burgeois, Sidney 
Burke, Perry 
Burns, Thomas J. 
Brady, Vivian H. 
Braud, Daunis 
Breard, Robert M. 
Brooks, R. 
Brulatour, Benjamin 
Broun, Garonwy 
Brown, John 
Brawner, P. 
Bryant, Bernard 
Butt, George 
Byrne, Edward 

Cady, Thomas A. 
Casserly, James 
Casey, James 
Cassidy, Leslie 
Cassidy, Joseph 
Chapuis, Claud 
Chalin, Henry 

Hill College 
of Honor 

Christovich, A. 
Clements, Jacob 
Colomb, Allan 
Collins, T. 
Corbitt, C. L. 
Costello, Chris 
Courtney, Frank 
Crowell, Edward 
Cummings, M. 
Curren, Denis 
Curran, J. J. 

Daly, James G. 
Daly, Joseph N. 
Daniels, W. 
Deegan, John E. 
Delahoussaye, Roy E. 
Delaune, Andrew 
Delaune, Ervin 
Devinney, Edward 
Dimitry, Dracos 
Dolson, David 
Dolson, John 
Douglas, Andrew 
Doherty, Rev. A. J. 
Dowe, Daniel 0. 
Dowe, Fleurence 
Drago, Robert L. 
Ducote, R. 
Duggan, James 
Dyer, Donald 

Ferall, James 
Firment, A. 
Finch, Gregory 
Fischer, Henry 
Flatauer, Adolph 
Fossier, D'Hamecourt J. 
Fossier, Walter 
Fuller, Robert 

Gallagher, C. Stapleton 
Garland, Henry 
Garber, James R. 
Gervais, Norman 
Gibbons, Ashby 
Gibbons, Gunby 



Gibbons, J. Rapier 
Gillespie, Francis 
Garborino, J. 
Gray, Herbert 
Grefer, Archibold 
Gremillion, Henry 
Guiteras, John 
Guyton, James 

Hahn, Albert 
Hamel, J. 
Hamilton, Percy 
Hanley, John 
Harmon, Barrie 
Harty, Emmet 
Harty, Joseph 
Hartz, Joseph 
Harris, Frank U. 
Herbert, Ernest 
Hebert, Ducote 
Henderson, William 
Hickey, Lawrence 
Hoffman, George 
Hoffman, William S. 
Holden, F. Cleary 
Holland, Charles 
Horkin, George 
Horkin, Thomas 
Hunt, Thomas 
Hymel, David 

Inge, Marion 

Johnson, Arthur 
Johnson, Joseph E. 
Jagoe, Leo 
Johnson, William 

Keane, Thomas 
Kearns, Joseph 
Keoughan. James 
Kearny William 
Kelly, T. Howard 
Kelly, Thomas J. 
Kelly, Thomas F. 
Kelly, William 
Klosky, Simon 
Konstanzer, Hoffman 
Kuhn, F. 

Lange, Clarence J. 
Lange, Sidney A. 
Lanheim, Charles 
Lasseigne, George 
Lavretta, L. 
Lelong, Anthony 
Lindsey, Fred 
Lindsey, James A. 
Logan, Joseph S. 
Logan, William E. 
Lowenstein, Henry C. 
Lynch, C. 

Mackin, James 
Martell, Joseph 
Mayer, Reyam 
McAfee, John C. 
McCarthy, Dr. George 
McCarthy, John 
McCarthy, William 
McEnnis, Bernard 
McHatton, Hubbard 
Mclntyre, James D. 
McKenna, Edward P. 
McPhillips, Julian 
Metzger, John 
Meyer, Edwin 
Meyer, Emmett 
Mereth, Edmond 
Moulton, John 
Moresi, John Louis 
Murphy, Louis H. 
Murray, John 
Murray, Joseph 

Neely, Duggan 
Neuberger, Lawrence 
Nicrosi, William 
Nicrosi, Peter 
Norville, Joseph H. 

O'Connor, Thomas 
O'Dowd, Edward 
O'Grady, Joseph 
O'Leary, James 
O'Leary, Pearse 
Oliveira. Edward 
O'Neil, Kerwin 
Orai, Frank 


Overby, Thomas 
Ory, D. J. 
Owens, Edward H. 

Patterson, Henry 
Patout, Philip 
Pardue, Sherman 
Pearce, Charles 
Peters, T. 
Prohaska, Frank 
Provosty, Albin 
Provosty, Ledoux 
Puder, Walter 

Ratterman, George 
Rapier, James G. 
Rault, Clemens 
Reilly, Daniel 
Reilly, Maurice 
Reid, Roger 
Reiss, Norman 
Reynaud, Oscar J. 
Rougon, Albert 
Rougon, Joseph B. 
Rounds, Kenneth 
Rowbotham, Francis 
Roycroft, Willis 
Rush, Dr. John 0. 

Salaun, Milton 
Sanchez, Gilbert 
Schmitt, William 
Schoen, Phillip 
Schimpf , F. 
Scott, Walter 
Scott, John G. 
Schuessler, Paul S. 
Schweers, Noel 
Shephard, Darwin 
Shephard, Thomas 
Sheridan, Howard 
Showalter, Edward 
Slattery, Paul 
Soniat, Charles 
Soniat, Leon 
Soniat, Guy 
Soniat, Lucien 
Spotswood, Joseph 
Stollenwerk, Andrew S. 

Staub, Edwin 
Stauffer, Walter 
Steinreide, Joe 
Stritch, Rev. John H. 
Suderman, Rudolph 
Suderman, Charles 
Sullivan, Christopher J. 
Supple, Joseph W. 

Taft, Eugene 
Tarleton, Francis S. 
Taylor, George B. 
Teobold, George B. 
Thibaut, Clarence C. 
Timothy, Christopher 
Thompson, A. 
Thompson, B. 
Touart, Anthony J. 
Tighe, Frank 
Timothy, H. 
Tobin, J. 
Touart, Clarence 
Touart, Rupert G. 
Trolio, John 
Tutweiler, Millard 
Tyrrell, James 

Van Heuval, John 
Vaughan, James R. 
Vickers, Nicholas S. 
Viguerie, J. P. 
Vila, Vincent 
Voorhies, Sidney C. 

Wagner, Toxey J. 
Wagner, Hunter 
Walker, Merriott 
Walmsley, Carroll 
Walmsley, Semmes 
Walmsley, William 
Weatherly, Wallace 
Weems, Douglas 
Wilson, Henry 
Wogan, John 
Wohner, Clarence 
Wood, Frank P. 
Wohner, M. 
Woulfe, Maurice 

Youree, Charles S. 

Zeigler, Alfred 

>^« -r\.» A • v_>*« 


Alexis, Ralph Roger 
Allen, Joseph Michael 
Anderson, M. H. 
Andre, Paul Louis 
Andreyko, George 
Antoni, Dominick Owen 
Arnaudet, Martin Louis 

Bannon, Joseph* 
Beatrous, Thomas Antoni 
Bienvenu, Oscar Joseph 
Blankenstein, W. C. 
Bohen, William Henry 
Bolian, Emile Thomas 
Booth, Thomas Atkinson 
Bosarge, Edward Arthur 
Boudousquie, Louis Joseph 
Burke, J.* 

Campbell, James George 
Casale, Salvatore, G. 
Casey, Albert* 
Cashin, Edward Joseph 
Cashin, Lawrence Francis 
Castagnos, E. J. 
Cerise, Henry Abel 
Clinton, Lionel George 
Colee, Stanley Valentine 
Conlon, William Francis 
Cooney, John F. 
Courtney, Charles Edward 
Crane, Rene Murphy 
Crane, Mills Judson 
Cronin, James Jeremiah 
Cunningham, F. J. 
Curren, William Joseph 
Curtis, Arthur 

D'Antoni, Salvador Joseph 
Day, William Henry 
De Leon, Louis Albert 
De Leon, V.* 
Dimmock, Charles Donald 
Discon, Thomas Patrick 
D'Olive, Walter F. 
Dolson, Charles Norris 
Dorr, G.* 

Emrich, Arthur Bertrand 

Killion, Fred William 
Kopecky, Joseph J. 

Lafaye, Clifford* 
Lappington, George L. 
Levy, Erskine W. 
LeSassier, Henry* 
Lions, L. E.* 
Lucas, Alphonse 

Maher, Richard J. 
Mahorner, Matt* 
Mahorner, H.* 
Mahoney, Vincent* 
Masters, Michael N. 
Manucy, Howard C. 
Matthews, Joseph Walsh 
Meacl, Joseph W. 
Miazza, James F. 
Milam, Ernest J. 
Moore, Joseph A. 
Moslander, James A. 
Mulchay, Patrick J. 
Mullane, Philip 
Mulvihill, Michael 
Murray, James V. 

McCarthy, John F. 
McEnerny, Harry E. 
McEvoy, Owen Edward 
McGraw, George F. 
McKenna, Frank L. 
McMahon, Thomas J. 
McShane, John W. 

Nixon, Joseph Washington 

Oberkirch, James H. 
O'Dowd, Louis J. 
O'Connor, Harry J. 
O'Connor, Miles J. 

Pascoe, William V. 
Partridge, Frederick C. 
Petree, Eugene 
Pigott, Charles F. 
Poe, Raymond R. 
Poche, Marcel A. 
Prather, John R. 

Fabacher, John Berchmans 
Fabacher, J.* 
Faherty, Frank Patrick 
Fauria, William Vincent 
Feore, Walter William 
Flanagan, Walter Joseph 
Flanigan, George Joseph 
Flautt, Henry B. 
Flautt, Joseph* 
Fogarty, A. K. 
Foucher, Deween 
Foy, Walter Lawrence 
Francis, Fred Ghomer 
Freeland, Wilroy Marshall 
Fuss, John Joseph 

Gannon, Richard Dominick 
Gianelloni, Lefebvre Louis 
Gianelloni, S. J.* 
Gilmore. Basil Clark 
Glass, Harry John 
Graham, T. P., Jr. 
Grehan, Harold Simon 
Grizzard, Henry Western 

Hails, Thomas Jefferson 
Haller, Karl Hermann 
Hanlein, John Joseph 
Heichleheim, Herbert R. 
Hemstreet, Frank S. 
Hermann, Benito Jerome 
Hillery, John R. 
Hogan, Benjamin A. 
Holliday,James Edward 
Holloway, Emanuel H. 
Home, Charles Lucien 
Hughes, William F. 

Inge, Clifton* 

Johnson, Forrest J. 
Johnson, William 
Jones, Frank V. 

Karcher, William E. 
Keller, John Lockhart 
Kelly, Clement V. 
Kelsey, Nelson Frank 
Keoughan, Joseph* 



Ray, James E. 
Reed, Curtis P. 
Reed, James E. 
Reiss, Gustave M. 
Reynaud, Sidney* 
Rice, Matthew S. 
Roberts, William R. 
Robinson, John E. 
Robinson, James E. 
Rodrigue, Xavier E. 
Rodrigue, G.* 
Ruhlman, George J. 
Russell, William J. 

Schkeeler, Edward B. 
Schwegmann, George J. 
Schweers, Eugene F. 
Sconyers, Charles A. 

* Volunteer member 

Sehler, Karl L. 
Sere, Darby 
Sherman, John J. 
Shirer, Irwin M. 
Skinner, George B. 
Skinner, Raphael S. 
Simpson, Howard 
Springer, Harry M. 
Simpson, Howard* 
Springer, Harry M. 
Sullivan, John George 
Sullivan, Martin P. 
Strauss, Victor C. 
Straub, Augustus 
Street, Charles T. 

Theriot, Howard J. 
Thoman, Louis E. 

Tomlin, James D.* 
Toups, L.* 
Trudeau, G. 
Tuminello, Joseph* 

Unsworth, John E. 

Van Liew, Jerome 
Villien, L.* 

Walker, Charles A. 
Walet, Eugene* 
Walsh, Joseph R. 
Wells, Richard 
Weston, Henry M. 
Whittington, Harry K. 
Willard, Richard A. 
Williams, George A. 


As in most other college magazines, our Exchange column has suffered in conse- 
quence of the war, particularly on account of the upset schedules arising from the for- 
mation of the S. A. T. C. Still it is not our intention, and we sincerely hope it is not 
the intention of the other institutions to wholly abandon this interesting department. 
Let us not omit it, though we cannot expect it to be up to the normal standard until 
circumstances become more propitious. 

The Thanksgiving number of "THE REDWOOD" is interesting as ever, seemingly 
intact from the ravages of this trying period. "The Awakening" and "The Muleteer" 
are lengthy, but nevertheless pleasing narratives containing throughout an easy and nat- 
ural style. Few editorials have struck us more than the timely mention of the "United 
War Work" campaign. In a splendid manner it shows the obligation of the American 
citizens to the men "Over There," and how they understood it. 

We are pleased to learn that the publication of the "GEORGETOWN JOURNAL" 
will not be affected by the present circumstances. Though in the October number, the 
editors seem to have been wholly engrossed in the doings of the S. A. T. C., there are a 
few articles interesting to everyone. The editorials "Traditions" and "The Peril of the 
Laurel" are well written to show the standard by which the students are expected to be 
guided. The long prize essay, "The Poet and His Works," a well developed and highly 
instructive composition. 

The "CANISIUS MONTHLY" of October is also pervaded by S. A. T. C. notes. 
However, we were gratified to see a number of excellent poems in the issue. The essay, 
"The Application of Aniline Colors," is written on a much-discussed subject, and is a 
good though rather condensed treatise. "Toothpicks," another essay, forms interesting 







APRIL, 1919 


frontispiece : Our New President 

Easter Spray (Verse) 183 ® 

a. c. m. (@) 

Peace Hath Her Perils (Story) 185 (§) 


Agnes Repplier and Alice Meynell (Essay) ...... 187 (§) 

j. kopecky p=^ 

A Chanson of Spring (Verse) 192 >< 

g. s. (©) 

Sergeant Blake of Ours (Story) 193 ® 

E. BERRY (©) 

The Truce of God (Verse) 197 (§) 

C. D. S. © 

A Memory of Old Versailles (Essay) 198 /«\ 


Azalea's Love (Verse) 202 ® 

e. o-c. (g) 

Stratagems and Spoils (Story) 203 (©) 

M. MAY ($$) 

Psychology of Catholic Education (Essay) 

L. M. 

207 (§) 

Chateau Thierry (Verse) 215 

.7. M. 

EDITORIALS— Salve Atque Vale 216 

Our New Coach 217 
















®t|? ^prittgljUitatt 

VOL. XI APRIL, 1919 No. J 

iEaatn* £>pvn$ 

Hail ! Ray of the Easter Sun, 
Falling like spray from the mountain-stream, 
Filling the soul, till her fountains teem 

With joy over doles that are done! 

Fair Easter Morning light, 
How like a ship in sight, 

That bears upon her prow 
Our boy, our heart's delight! 
Aye, tell us now, 
Did'st thou not light him through the gloam 
Over there, 

And pluck him blushing from the cannon- 
The Flower of Easter to his mother's home? 

Easter Morn 
How like the rose 
Which in the dark 
Seemed not to thrive, 
But lo, with the hill-top flush, 
With the lay of the lark 
And the trill of the thrush, 
Opens her eyes, alive ! 
let us never part, 

Night-conceived, morning-born 
Rose of my heart, 

My Easter morn! 

But, ah, thou Greater Easter Spray, 
Thou fairer Rose — 

Peace, Truth, and Right — 
That break upon the soul today 
Amid rainbows 

In showers of light ! 


Thou art a foretaste of the Sprays of Ocean, 
Whose heart-beat and whose love-beat never 

Where neither war nor woe can mar the motion 
Of the never-ending, ever-ripping peace. 

I long, 1 long 

For the Easter song 
Of the boundless bay 
Where the breeze-borne wavelet and sea-gull play, 

And the swells of the deep 

Are repeating in sleep 
Their rosary — praise to Eternal Day. 

I long to go the Sea-way, 
I long to know thee, Sea-spray! 
Where the beams of the infinite Easter fall 

To sing and to laugh with thee, 
Where fountains in myriad tunelets call 
To wing and to quaff with thee, 
thou Sea-spray supernal, 
In thy glee-day eternal, 
By Easter, my Rose, and my All ! 

—a. c. M. 

Peace Hath Her Perils 

V. MAHONEY, A.B. '21 

war's best fruit." 

The remark came from one Corporal Watson, formerly of 
the Texas Rangers and National Guard, and now with us of 
the American Army in Russia, camping on Troitsky prospect, 
Archangel's widest and most beautiful terrace. The soldiers were chatting 
in small groups around huge braziers. Some were warming their coffee, 
others were walking rapidly to and fro. It was a pleasant sight, and 
though the thermometer registered far below freezing, still our spirits 
were up, for it was the eve of a battle. 

We had just been two months on the Arctic coast, and events had 
dragged along painfully. Many of the soldiers, seemingly unconscious of 
the issues at stake, had not unfrequently expressed sympathy with the 
ideals and aims of the enemy. Leader among these was Watson — "Bill of 
the Soviets," as he was not unfittingly called. Were it not for military 
regulations, he had all but graced these meetings with his presence. He 
had developed a large following in our company. His ideas on reconstruc- 
tion problems and the like were accepted as final. He had devoured the 
works of Marx long ago in the U. S., and now that he saw men material- 
izing his principles, Lenine and Trotsky loomed large in his view. 

He had just finished reading a paper, and was evidently looking for an 
audience. A young Irish-American doughboy who had overheard his re- 
mark, and was sipping his coffee, slowly, looked down upon him 
rather meaningly. "So you think that you will join that crew?" he asked. 
"Yes, Devine," was the reply. "As soon as ever I get my discharge I shall 
take my place in their councils." "You see," he continued, as he pointed to 
the headlines on the paper, "it is Democracy carried to its logical conclu- 
sion." Devine answered something about its not being even Socialism, 
since the Soviets were said to recognize four kinds of stomachs, serving out 
different rations to the different castes. The reply was lost on Watson, 
who remained looking at a picture of the Kremlin gate, which the revolu- 
tionary guns had lately battered. 

"Do you not think," I ventured, "that these men may injure the coun- 
try, seeing they take such means to accomplish their ends?" "No," said 
he, "you are mistaken. Every great movement of history was accompa- 
nied, necessarily, with some kind of violence. Such a thing is of necessity, 
but once they get the debris of the old order removed, then it's all plain sail- 
ing. Republics will re-shape themselves automatically, and all will be cen- 
tralized (he raised his voice, as his audience by this time had increased), in 
one government. There will be equality between man and man. That is 


the way all shall be governed." A slight murmur of assent broke from the 
assembly. Bill was evidently regarded by not a few as one of the leaders 
of the new regime. "He's got the makings of a premier or a president in 
him," someone shouted. * * * * 

Before taps that evening we repaired to find who were deputed as 
guards for the night. The enemy forces had been continuolly on the alert 
for an opportunity of striking a blow, and one of their favorite stratagems 
was to send in some troops between the mules we had picketed on the out- 
skirts of the camp. A disturbance of the animals meant no sleep for the 
soldiers, and the trick worked to perfection more than once. For some time 
a guard had been appointed to the post, and it was now for the first time 
that Bill of the Soviets' turn had come. 

Bill went on guard that night, somewhat unwillingly, I dare say, on 
account of the fact that he was more or less in sympathy with the Bolshe- 
viki. Still, in justice to his companions, and duty to his country, he could 
not permit anything as lawless and annoying as the performances of the 
past week to go unmolested. He slowly paced up and down, wishing, as 
every sentinel that ever walked, that something would happen. He had 
hardly turned and started on the route back when he was conscious of a 
slight disturbance among the mules. Peering beneath, he saw a pair of 
legs under them some thirty yards away. "Now is my chance for distinc- 
tion !" he thought, and, bending on one knee, he fired. The form crumpled 
to the ground, moaning between intervals of some very Anglo-Saxon curses. 

* * * * 

It was early next morning when I met Devine. "Did you hear of the 
court-martial?" he asked. "No, what's the matter?" "Bill Watson shot 
Lieutenant Hunt, mistaking him for one of the Bolsheviki." The news 
spread like wildfire. It seems that the lieutenant had come on his rounds 
of inspection, as was customary. These instructions had been given to 
Watson when he was going on duty, but whether he was thinking of his 
international plans at the time or not, he had not even challenged the 
oiticer, but fired, wounding him severely. 

* * * * 

It was a few days after the court-martial, and we were discussing the 
Incident around one of the camp fires. Many of Bill's friends who had so 
idolized him were present. 

"What a pity!" said one, referring to Bill's disgrace. "Men like him 
are needed for the good of the world today. He certainly would have 
made a great leader in the new Bolshevist regime." Devine was standing 
by, and overheard the expression. "He run the world," he echoed, "he be a 
leader? Why, he couldn't even guard mules!" 

Agnes Repplier and Alice 


HERE IS A TENDENCY on the part of not a few of our Catholic 
readers while manifesting a ready interest in the writings of 
those of other creeds, to show a strange ignorance, when there is 
question, of even the most prominent modern authors of their 
own. Many who will own up to having read more than their 
share of the novels of Marie Corelli, Ouida or Hall Caine, will 
/confess that they have not read a line of Ayscough, Sienkiewicz or the 
hundred other representative novelists we can boast of. They can even 
quote Mrs. Henimans, Elizabeth Browning or Emerson, but ask them to 
identify a verse from Coventry Patmore or Newman, and they are at sea. 
It is the same story in every department of the field — their own receiving 
them not. 

Amongst those representative literateurs too little known by those 
Who should be their principal admirers, we do not hesitate to number 
Agnes Repplier and Alice Meynell, both decidedly Catholic — the one Amer- 
ican — the other distinctly English. To the initiated, the names will be 
suggestive of different memories. There is the young Philadelphian in 
her home on "the proper side of Market street" contributing to The Atlan- 
tic Monthly, Philadelphia Times and other periodicals, winning, while still 
a girl, a place in the literary world with her numerous essays. Then, there 
is the letter from Lady Fullerton to Father Matthew Russell, in which 
prayers are asked for two young Catholic girls "in danger of their souls 
from the world and its praises." One of these was Elizabeth Thompson, 
whose picture, "The Roil Call," hung in the Royal Academy exhibition of 
1877, had already met with an unique success. 

The other was Alice Thompson, now Mrs. Meynell, who had lately pub- 
lished "Preludes," a slender young volume which the elect of the world 
had been quick to recognize as a thing with an authentic air, and the latter 
success conceivably might be a greater danger than the hurly-burly of a 
huge popular success. 

Agnes Repplier has been very popular among a limited circle of Amer- 
ican readers. Her excellences are not easy to determine, for they are many 
and varied. It is an essayist and critic, however, that she stands supreme. 
When writing on subjects of vital importance, her reasoning is clear, force- 
ful, logical. Flashing bits of humor ever enliven her compositions and her 
appreciation of it is similar to that of Lorenzo. The writer that hath no 
•wit she looks upon as "apt to be a formidable person." He is often to be 
respected, sometimes to be feared, and always — if possible, to be avoided. 


No one more fully realized that essays, however clear in expression 
and important in subject matter, are likely to have the majority of read- 
ers, educated and accustomed as we are to light literature. On this account 
she introduces an occasional pleasantry, which is never entirely irrelevant 
nor lacking a logical basis. 

Discussing that "popular enthusiasm is but a fire of straw," she ob- 

"It can be lighted to some purpose, as when money is extracted from 
the enthusiasts before they have had time to cool." Further: 

"Honest enthusiasm, we are often told, is the power which moves the 
'world. Therefore, it is perhaps that honest enthusiasts seem to think 
that if they stopped pushing, the world would stop moving — as though 
it were a new world which didn't know its ways. This belief inclines them 
to intolerance. The more keen they are, the more contemptuous they be- 

The following extract from "The Temptation of Eve" will likewise 
illustrate her skill along this line, and perhaps she has struck the correct 
explanation of a widely debated question: 

"As long as men wore costumes which interpreted their strength, en- 
hanced their persuasiveness and concealed their shortcomings, women ac- 
cepted their dominance without demur. They made no idle claim to equal- 
ity with creatures, not only bigger and stronger, not only more capable 
and more resolute, not only wiser and more experienced, but more noble 
and distinguished in appearance than they were themselves. What if the 
assertive attitude of the modern woman, her easy arrogance, and the con- 
fidence she places in her own untried powers, may be accounted for by the 
dispiriting clothes which men have determined to wear, and the wearing 
of which may have cost them no small portion of their authority?" 


■ E WOULD NATURALLY CONCLUDE that Agnes Repplier, a sound, 
logical author, would possess the qualities of an excellent critic, and 
our supposition is entirely correct. She is very keen in discovering flaws, 
however, being equally careful not to censure indiscriminately. As "Sym- 
pathy," one of her typical papers, shows, she is far from being unsparingly 
sarcastic or disapproving, but she rather exercises her discerning ability 
in revealing the new, yet unperceived charms of a literary work. It is 
not her policy to condemn an entire production for a few mistakes, as many 
of our hasty judges do; to unexperienced authors, she prefers to be gen- 
erous, but deliberate disseminators of false, even positively injurious prin- 
ciples, she treats unmercifully, clearly refuting and justly condemning their 
malicious writings. The statement of many of our modern teachers, that 


knowledge should be made attractive, and in educating children, the word 
"task" avoided, was resolutely attacked by Agnes Repplier, who wisely 
remarked that: 

"The capacity for doing what they do not want to do, if it be a thing 
that needs to be done" is what the children must acquire in order to become 
really strong, successful and manly. 

Her works are among the best examples of sane and useful essays, 
the reading of which eloquently points out to us the broadmindedness of 
their composer. From "A Curious Contribution" and "Aut Caesar Aut 
Nihil," we notice that she is not over-enthusiastic for the suffrage ques- 
tion, but she fully realizes that there are two sides to the discussion : 

"Life is not easy to understand, but it seems tolerably clear that the 
two sexes were put upon the world to exist harmoniously together, and to 
do, each oi them, a share of the world's works. 

"A Happy Half Century and Other Essays," "In Our Convent Days" 
and "Americans and Others" are included in the list of her published vol- 
umes, all being characterized by the same interesting, open manner of ex- 

On the other hand, Alice Meynell strikes us by quite different excel- 
lences ; not breaking down the fallacies of modern theorists, surprising us 
by the clear and logical exposition of facts and arguments, as our essayist 
is wont to do, but she captivates us by the calm revealing of new but beau- 
tiful ideas, clothing these with the delicate raiment of a figurative style. 

Especially, the natui'e descriptions are portrayed in an elegant man- 
ner. Take for example her "Spring on the Alban Hills: 

"O'er the Campagna it is dim, warm weather, 
The spring- comes with a full heart silently, 
And many thoughts: a faint flash of the sea 
Divides two mists: straight falls the falling feather. 

With wild spring meanings hill and plain together 
Grow pale or just flush with a dust of flowers, 
Rome in the ages, dimmed with all her towers, 

Floats in the midst a little cloud of tether." 

Her descriptive power also figures in her "November Blue" — 

"0 Heavenly color, London town 

Has blurred it from her skies, 
And hooded in an earthly brown, 
Unheaven'd the city lies. 

No larger standard — like this hue 

Above the broad road flies; 
Nor does the narrow street the blue 

Wear, slender pennon wise." 


Katharine Tynan says of her: "I am sure that this most worthy of 
poets has never written a line or phrase of poetry without a white heat of 
thought that sought for the finest expression in the briefest manner pos- 
sible. She has no prettiness. White heat is perhaps the right word for 
an intensity of feeling which takes a shape as fine as a Greek marble. She 
extracts from words that cunning instrument by which man reveals his 
heart their uttermost significance. She invests them with a new meaning, 
a new dignity. Her thoughts have a flight, a direct poignancy which at 
times takes the breath away as in this Veni Creator — 

So humble things Thou hast borne for us, God, 
Lef t'st Thou a path of lowliness untrod ? 
Yes, one, till now! Another Olive-Garden, 
For we endure the tender pain of pardon — 
One with another we forbear. 

Come, then 
Endure undreamed humility! Lord of Heaven, 
Come to our ignorant hearts and be forgiven." 

Her very soul breathes in her poetry. Francis Thompson said of her 
that he could not gauge what beauty was her dole, as he was unable to 
behold her countenance for her soul just as birds cannot see the casement 
for the sky. 

"I know not of her body till I find 
My flight debarred the Heaven of her mind. 
Hers is the face whence all should copied be. 
Did God make replicas of such as she." 

She walks the lady of my delight, a shepherdhess of sheep, her flocks 
are thoughts. She keeps them white, she guards them from the steep, she 
feeds them on the fragrant height, and folds them in for sleep. 

Perhaps even the following are more characteristic: 

"Or I am like a stream that flows, 
Full of the cold springs that arose 
In morning lands, in distant hills, 
And down the plain my channel fills 
With melting of forgotten snows." 

Voices I have not heard possessed 

My own fresh songs, my thoughts are blessed 

With relics of the far unknown, 

And mixed with memories not my own, 

The sweet streams throng into my breast. 


Before this life began to be 
The happy songs that wake in me 
Woke long ago and far apart. 
Heavenly on this little heart 
Presses this immortality. 

It is said of her that she used to make her poems and prose having 
come in from shopping or afternoon visiting, with her outdoor things still 
on, the children playing about her, visitors talking about the fire, occa- 
sionally including her in the conversation. 

If so, how claustral that soul which amid such active surroundings 
could write such verses as "I Am the Way" — 

"Thou art the way. 

Hadst Thou been nothing but the goal 
I cannot say 

If Thou hadst ever met my soul" 

Or on the Rorate coeli — 

"No sudden things of glory and fear 
Was the Lord's coming; but the dear 

Slow Nature's days followed each other 

To form the sorrow from His Mother — 
One of the Children of the Year. 

Of late, the author has refrained from publishing frequent poems, but 
the occasional ones that have come before the people, unmistakably mani- 
fest her continued skill. Of these works, many have been originally pub- 
lished in The Pall Mall Gazette; here, they were brought before the public 
and scarcely ever failed to elicit praise and approval. Among the more 
popular ones are "The Unexpected Peril," "Two Boyhoods," "The Crucifix- 
ion," "Unto Us a Son Is Given," and "The Launch." 

It is needless to remark that both of these authors, among the best 
modern literary composers, in their own sphere, are Catholics, and a thor- 
oughly Catholic sentiment prevails in their productions. Perhaps they have 
been outdone by other writers in some points, but we are sure that they 
deserve our heartiest approbation, not only for their defense of correct 
principles, but for their literary excellence. The works of both have fea- 
tures that have not been surpassed, and that are sufficient to win general 
recognition for the ability of Agnes Repplier and Alice Meynell. 

A (EljanBfltt nf spring 

Come, beloved, o'er the hills, 

Golden clad with daffodils; 

See the frail wood-violets blue 

Nodding their wee heads at you; 

Modest primroses and pale 

Starlike peep from wood and dale ; 

Pimpernels and daisies, too, 

Smile their sweetest smile at you. 

List, beloved, to the dove, 

Cooing forth his tale of love. 

Birds a-mating 'midst the trees 

Chirpeth gladsome in the breeze, 

And the little busy bee 

Hummeth on right merrily, 

From each blossom nectar sips — 

Why not I, love, from thy lips ? 

Fast it beats, this heart o' me, 

In a springtide ecstasy. 

All for eyes of violet hue, 

Heart o' mine, it beats for you. 

On beloved o'er the hills 

Whilst first love within us thrills. 

List the silvery echoes sing! 

Love's fair floweret blooms in spring. 


Sergeant Blake of Ours 

ED. F. BERRY, A.B. '24 

T WAS A CHILLY, RAINY DAY, the kind of a day most dreaded 
by soldiers. After every rain, the soldier's misery begins. He 
has to pull large guns and every kind of vehicle out of the mud. 
Mud is one of the sorest trials of the doughboy, and, as he ex- 
presses it, "it would make St. Peter cuss." 

This time, however, the weather did not have any impression on the 
minds of about a dozen gloomy and downcast boys of the fighting 67th, sit- 
ting around a fire in an old French farmhouse. The main cause foor their 
gloominess was thoughts of home. There were in rest billets in which no real 

work was imposed upon them. About half a mile away was Camp D , 

near the Argonne Forest. These doughboys had been caught in the rain, 
and came to the farmhouse for shelter. Not many hours before, the com- 
pany in which they were stationed had driven a detachment of Germans 
from a French farmyard by fierce hand-to-hand fighting. The thoughts 
of their narrow escapes made many shiver. 

The sombre silence was at length broken by Sergeant James Blake, a 
young, spirited fellow of about 23 years. The study of French had ever 
been his strong point, and he prided himself on his knowledge. 

"Say, Dick, what does 'chevaux' mean? I can't find it in this diction- 
ary," spoke Jim. 

"Aw, don't bother me with your old French !" was Dick's response. 

This answer seemed to close him for awhile, but within five minutes 
he gave an unearthly yell and cried: 

"I got it!" 

"Got what?" asked half a dozen. 

"I got what 'chevaux' means !" 

Many disappointed jeers greeted his announcement, and settled once 
more into silence and gloominess. After awhile his dictionary seemed to 
bore, and he put it aside. He tried whittling a stick, but that amusement 
failed. Finally his thoughts wandered to the far U. S., and to his little 
home in Indiana, from which he was separated, he judged, by over three 
thousand miles. 

In the meantime, the wheels of a cart were heard coming over the 
gravel roads toward the camp. One fellow got up and looked out of the 
window. He uttered a wild whoop, and cried out: 

"Come on, boys, there goes the mail to camp!" 

"Mail!" That little word was like magic. It induced each man around 
the fire to instant activity. Each man was anxious to hear from the loved 
ones at home, and in their mad rush they almost knocked over old "Cholly" 
Perkins, the one who had charge of the mail. 


"Lemme see, boys, I don't think there's many letters for you. I believe 
the lucky guys are Williams, Grant, Stewart and Stevens." 

"Ain't there one for me?" asked Jim, anxiously. 

"Naw ! Wait, there might be one in the French mail ; I ain't looked it 
over yet." 

Old "Cholly" glanced hastily over a large stack of letters. 

"Sure nuff, Jim, here's one fer yuh. I hope it will cheer yuh up, cuz 
you looked purty blue round the gills a minute ago." 

But Blake was just as puzzled as he was happy when handed the let- 
ter. He detected a lady's handwriting. Surely, he knew no girl in France. 
His doubts were at last cleared by coming to the conclusion that some 
French girl had picked his name out of an American army directory. In 
hopes of encouraging him, she had written. 

He tore open the epistle, eagerly, and as his eyes glanced at the few 
lines, an exclamation of astonishment escaped his lips. 

"Wall, I'll be daw-gone !" 

His comrades crowded around him to read the letter, with intense 
curiosity. i 

Listen to what it says, boys : 

162 Rue de la Victoire, Paris 
Brave American: Pardon me if I do not address you with the proper title. It is 
with great pleasure that I encourage you in your exploits in the present combat. I 
have seen your name in the directory of the American army, and took the determina- 
tion to write to you. My home is welcome to you. If leave is ever granted, come and 
see me. Until then, let us embrace in imagination. Yours, 


"Well, what do you say to that?" asked Jim, turning and smiling. 

"I'll say you're a lucky dog," said one. 

"Luck's no name fer it," commented another. 

"I believe you were born with horseshoes all around you," said Jack 
Williams, derisively. 

"But what does that 'M' stand fer?" asked Dick Harding. 

"That stands for 'Mademoiselle,' of course," answered Jim, in an off- 
hand way. 

"What gets me is that 'Let's embrace in imagination,' " remarked Wal- 

"That's what struck my eye first, Jack," answered Jim. 

"Jim, old boy, yer in luck!" said Harding. 

i t : ># 

BY THIS TIME large raindrops were falling, and the little party sought 
the shelter of the house. Jim was in an ecstasy of delight. He paced 
around the little room, reading the letter over to himself, and he whistled, 


softly, the tune, "Kiss Me Again." Wedding bells rang in his ears as at 
times he would exclaim, "Gosh, won't it look swell if I bring her home to 
ma ! I wish I could get to Paris." 

The letter was very soon answered, and a correspondence ensued 
which seemed, least to say, promising. There were beaucoup felicitations 
and salutations, and Jim was impatient for the armistice. 

S|S SfC S|6 !f 

FOUR MONTHS LATER, after Foch's victorious armies had beaten the 
Germans to their knees in humble submission, America began her great 
task of demobilization. It happened that the regiment in which Sergeant 
Blake was stationed, was among the first to be withdrawn from the front. 

On the afternoon of December 3, 1918, a trim-looking, but not over- 
handsome soldier, was seen walking up one of Paris' most fashionable res- 
idential streets, Rue de la Victoire. He stopped at a very large and beauti- 
ful mansion. This soldier happened to be our particular friend, Sergeant 
Jim Blake. A slight hesitancy could be clearly distinguished in his step, 
but gathering courage, he ascended the steps and rang the bell. 

The maid answered the call. 

"Is Mademoiselle de Maintenon in?" asked Blake, bashfully. 

"The mademoiselle?" repeated the maid, but, after a thought, she said, 
"Step this way, please." 

Jim was ushered into one of the most beautiful rooms he had ever seen. 
Gorgeous tapestries and portraits of noble ancestors adorned the walls. 
Carved oak furniture was placed around the room with picturesque effect. 
A large fire was sending its cheery warmth from a great red brick fire- 
place. In short, it was a room suitable for a king. Jim picked out one of 
the most comfortable looking chairs, and sat down. 

He was very nervous, as is one who is about to see his lady love. In 
a few minutes a short man with black hair and a black moustache entered 
the room. Instantly, Jim arose, the little man advanced. They shook 

"I'm pleased to meet you, Monsieur," he said. "James Blake," prompt- 
ly put in Jim. 

"My name is de Maintenon." 

"I'm glad to know yuh, Monsieur de Maintenon," spoke Blake. 

Monsieur de Maintenon motioned him to a chair, and both sat down. 

"I've just come to call on Madem — " said Jim. 

"Ah, yes! She will be right down," interrupted the monsieur. 

Both conversed for several minutes. Finally the patter of feet was 
heard on the stairs. Instinctively, Jim's heart took a great bound. In a 
moment a lady entered the room, but she was not at all up to Jim's expec- 


tations. She was rather plump. A great mass of dark brown hair was 
combed in one lump on the top of her head. Although she had no great 
beauty, a degree of dignity was depicted on her countenance. 

"This is my wife, Monsieur," spoke Monsieur de Maintenon. 

"I'm pleased to meet you," spoke Jim. 

Jim's hopes were high again when he heard that this was the wife. 
He was sure now that the daughter would soon appear. 

All sat down, and the madame entreated Jim to tell some of his expe- 

"Please tell us some of your experiences at the front. I have often 
longed to sit down and talk to some soldier." 

Jim never lost an opportunity of boosting himself, and now that his fu- 
ture happiness was at stake he determined to grasp his chance. When 
he got through the part played by the allied commanders in licking the 
enemy, looked comparatively small when placed beside the deeds of a cer- 
tain Sergeant Blake. 

As he concluded, a light step was heard. Jim's heart fluttered. "Here 
was Mademoiselle at last," he thought. It proved to be the servant girl! 

Half an hour passed. Blake was getting impatient. 

"How slow these French are," he said to himself. "Why, an American 
girl would have had the engagement ring by this time." However, it was 
better to wait, for fortune comes to those who wait. 

At last he could bear it no longer ! He glanced at his watch — he would 
have less than an hour to talk to her. Summoning courage, he asked: 

"Is the Mademoiselle coming?" 

"What?" Both Monsieur and Mademoiselle drew back, in astonish- 
ment. "Why, there is no Mademoiselle here!" they exclaimed, in one 
breath. "We never had a daughter." 

Now it was Jim's turn to be thunderstruck. He thought for a moment 
he might have called at the wrong house. No — the address was correct. 

"Didn't Mademoiselle de Maintenon write me some letters?" 

"Oh ! it was I who wrote those letters, she interrupted. "You see, my 
husband was anxious for me to improve my English, and this seemed a 
good way to practice. So I looked up the directory of your army, and found 
your name. 

"But were they not signed 'M. de Maintenon ?' " queried Jim. 

"Yes; but 'M' stands for 'Madame' as well as for 'Mademoiselle." 

^ ^c ^ * 

Blake walked weakly from the de Maintenon mansion. His French 
course had been completed, and as he reached the end of the Rue de la Vic- 
ioire, visions of Indiana rose before him, and he found himself soon hum- 
ming, "Good Old U. S. A. For Mine." 

©lie Wtmt nf (Bob 

The Truce of God is come! Its precious thrill, 
Its soft white hand of blessing touches earth 
To calm its wrath, to lull its moan of dearth, 

And soothe it into silence slow and still, 

High waves of human anger cease to fill 
Hollows and chasms! Is it nothing worth 
To bring the nations to a swift new birth? 

To rescue souls and work th' Almighty's will? 

Truce of God, soft white flowering Peace! 

We hail you with a tearful, strange delight ; 

Your olive crown is the only crown to wear, 
Until the storms of life find calm surcease. 

High diadems of Heaven shall then declare 
Your praise, heroes of this hard-won fight! 

— c. d. s. 

A Memory of Old Versailles 


HESE ARE DAYS OF DIPLOMACY, and the eyes of the world 
are still centered on Versailles, and as the representatives of the 
different nations loom before us like so many actors on an an- 
cient tragedy memory will force upon us the recollection of simi- 
lar scenes and crises. The old halls and gardens, so often the 
stage of France's destinies, resound with the echoes of footfalls long stilled 
but not yet forgotten. Among the ghosts of all the statesmen whose memory 
haunts the storied palace, there is one which would seem to ever hover 
above the place, especially in periods so critical for his country as at pres- 
ent. It is that of him who was not unjustly called the prince of diplomats 
while yet a servant of princes — Talleyrand. His very name is suggestive 
of Peace Conferences and rocking monarchies. In periods not entirely 
unlike the present — for it was the first break of Democracy — he moves a 
central figure. Yet, withal, he stands amidst the seething vortex of the 
one stable figure — stable not in character or principle, but in success. 

WE STUDY HIM as we would a statue. He has an artificial caste to 
his whole character. We are suspicious of him even in his best 
works. We suspect policy even when he asserts principle. There is noth- 
ing in him which demands our ardent admiration, as he disappoints and 
suppresses the very imagination he excites. Carnot has truly said of him : 
"He possesses no fixed principles, but changes them as he does his linen. 
He was a philosopher when philosophy was in vogue ; he is a republican now 
because it is the fashion of the day." Despite his character, his ability 
cannot be denied. 

His achievements were not perhaps the greatest that might have been 
accomplished, but still they deserve more than ordinary praise, since he 
commanded every single faction which came into prominence during that 
tumultuous period. A man who was a favorite at the court of Louis XVI, 
the first to propose a new government, a leader in the assembly, a secret 
ambassador to England during the reign of terror, a close friend of Bona- 
parte, and a prominent agent in the restoration of the Bourbons claims 
more than honorary mention. 

Paris on the thirteenth of February, 1754, of an ancient aristocratic 
family. But the lineage of the family was of no advantage to the child, 
since the fashion of the aristocracy immediately separated him from his 
mother, as the mothers of the aristocracy were shamefully negligent of 
their parental duties. He and his younger brother were put under a hired 


nurse and sent to a distant province to spend their boyhood. Of the two 
children, Charles was the less liked, he who was to make such a name for 
the family. This dislike was even carried so far as to deprive him of his 
inheritance and bestow it on his younger brother. 

He devoted himself manfully to study while at college, and gained 
considerable local fame thru his gift of oratory. It has been said of him 
that in the lonely hours of his college life he used to sit on the top of a 
ladder in the library and eagerly absorb book after book while other boys 
were seeking pleasure elsewhere. One might suppose from this that he was 
too reserved and precocious to be admired, but he was by no means of 
such stamp. He excelled in athletics, despite his crippled condition, and 
was witty, amiable, charitable and hospitable. 

It was at this time that he began his study of finances which was to 
give him such a brilliant start on the road to fame, and to enable him to 
save his country from extreme bankruptcy in the time of its greatest need. 

When he had been deprived of his inheritance he was immediately 
subjected to training for the priesthood, a resort for the more unfortunate 
sons of noblemen when they could not secure a commission in the army 
or navy. The church in France was at that time very corrupt; the clergy 
owned nearly half the land, led most worldly lives, and in many cases were 
more irreligious than their followers. So it is not surprising that a young 
man reared in such circumstances as Talleyrand, even though he was a 
clergyman, would be so irreligious. For it is certainly true that Talleyrand 
was not a good man, even if he was an illustrious man. He hated his re- 
ligion, and wanted to be connected with a pursuit more congenial to his 

Certain sums of money amounting to a yearly income of about twenty- 
five thousand francs, in addition to the bishopric of Autun, were now con- 
ferred on him by a church and a king for whose destruction he was soon to 
be so powerful an agent. 

*• reputation increased, and too late a fast-declining monarchy saw the 
need of a man so skilled in handling matters of finances. At the last 
moment he was made agent for the clergy, the most important financial 
position in the kingdom. 

He was so versed in all subjects of financial administration that he 
was qualified to be most useful to any party which might need assistance 
in tne management of this difficult matter. And so it happened that every 
party which rose into prominence was most anxious to make the renowned 


Talleyrand an ally; and strange to say, every faction which controlled 
France in that period felt most strongly the guiding influence of the illus- 
trious Talleyrand. 

And although he was always contrived to be on the winning side, his 
preference was always for a limited or constitutional monarchy. He sided 
with the winning side because there was room for his ambition and an 
unlimited scope for exercising his great powers. This course of his caused 
considerable comment both before and after his death. The leader of the 
governments began to look upon Talleyrand as the shrewdest politician of 
his age, and even in their safest moments they held vague doubts and fears 
as to his sincerity. There was much truth and little vanity in his words 
when he addressed Louis XVIII, "There is something within me that fore- 
bodes no good for the government which forsakes me." But he was a bet- 
ter judge of events than of principles. 

Talleyrand's new course with the "Estates General" soon caused con- 
siderable resentment among the clergy whom he was striving to keep on 
his side. At every change of parties, Talleyrand was sure to be the guiding 
spirit. When at last the Directory began to weaken, Talleyrand opened a 
close correspondence with Napoleon, with whom he saw the fate of France 
rested. And when the government changed to the hand of Napoleon, Tal- 
leyrand was the champion of the hour for the victorious general. 

He was made minister of foreign affairs, a position well suited to his 
talents. During the reign of Bonaparte, Talleyrand arrived at the zenith 
of his power. He was the most influential man in France, and it has been 
said that were it not for the peaceful policy of the minister, Bonaparte 
would have added many to his number of wars. 

He has been often accused of using the public funds of the treasury 
for his own private purse. Indeed, he was the richest man in France at 
the time. But with all this fortune dazzling before his eyes, he seems to 
have been often in serious financial straits, and indeed but for the gen- 
erosity of Napoleon, he would have been a bankrupt. He was a spendthrift 
of the worst kind, and, even worse than that, is the fact that he rarely 
paid his debts. Once Talleyrand purchased a fine carriage on credit, and 
when he did not pay, the coachmaker accosted him in the court, demand- 
ing his due. 

"Nothing can be more just," replied Talleyrand, "I am in your debt, 
and you must be paid." 

With this sort of conversation, the minister reached his carriage, 
when the coachmaker said to him : 

"You will pay me, Citizen Minister, but when?" 


"When? You are really very curious," said Talleyrand, seating him- 
self quietly in the carriage, leaving the mortified coachmaker to enjoy the 
pleasure of remarking that his carriage ran smoothly on the pavement. 

IT WAS at this time Talleyrand met Madame Grandt, a beautiful, proud 
woman with little character, and a short while after astounded Paris 
by marrying her. She became the proudest lady in the land, and became so 
unbearable in her manners that Napoleon forbade her in the court. Seeing 
that his reputation and influence were being Hardly taxed, he quit her. 

When Napoleon was finally banished and the Bourbons placed in power, 
Talleyrand was again on the safe side. Louis XVIII, though, was very 
ungrateful to the man who had won him his throne. Talleyrand was min- 
ister but for a short while, when he was forced into retirement and became 
Grand Chamberlain. 

As the next revolution shook France and placed Louis Phillipe on the 
throne, Talleyrand had once more mounted the stage of politics. It was 
through his wise counsel that Louis Phillipe accepted the crown. Louis, 
looking for one who could restore amity between France and England, ap- 
pointed Taliyrand ambassador to London. This step of Louis assured the 
stability of the government in having a man so talented, so famed, to rep- 
resent it at the court of its greatest rival. As an illustration of Talley- 
rand's reputation and powers, the words of the Russian emperor may be 
used, "Since Talleyrand attaches himself to the new government of France, 
that government must have some chance of stability." 

Talleyrand soon retired for good. In his old age, he expressed his 
wish to be re-established in the communion of the Catholic church, which 
he had so bitterly attacked. He died three months after his retirement. In 
his death, France lost her greatest statesman, and as Miribeau said, "The 
greatest and most subtle intellect of his age." 

Somehow he cannot be called a truly great man, but whatever his 
faults were we cannot deprive him of the well-earned title — Prince of Diplo- 

Azaira's IGnue 

This morn Azalea's fires have leaped 
To flame, in fragrant ecstasy: 

In triple loveliness of roses steeped 
She blushed her own fair face to see. 

Above the branches precious weight, 

A humming bird — like aery, 
Green-clad Robin Hood of nectar-freight- 

Quivers with unsung melody. 

He multitudinous whispers blends 
With daring art, and hovers nigh: 

The maiden flower, soft blushing, sends 
Her answer with a happy sigh. 

Rest, thief, on irridescent wing! 

Still thy tremulous fear, oh! flower! 
Though Earth no frailer sweet can bring, 

To crush thy love Time has no power. 

— E. O'C. 

Stratagems and Spoils 


My soul, as if in harmony with the atmosphere, seemed verit- 
ably charged with enthusiasm. Since my entrance into the 
secret service I had met with no mean measure of success. My 
cases were widely quoted, and my advice sought by detectives 
of no slight reputation. That meant something for one who had been only 
two years through the tests, and as I tripped along to my office on Broad 
street, I could well picture myself as another Holmes or Sexton Blake scan- 
ning with piercing glance the passing crowds, and singling with infallible 
intuition the crime-stained faces amongst them. A connoisseur in finger- 
prints — a veritable bloodhound when it came to following a trail, life in the 
department held every prospect for me. 

It was in such a frame of mind that I reached my office. Arriving 
there, I began my daily routine. Picking up the mail that had been neatly 
stacked on my desk by the stenographer, I read carefully through the let- 
ters. Some I tossed on my desk for future reference ; others I assigned to 
the waste basket. There was one that particularly attracted my atten- 
tion. The handwriting was familiar. It was that of an old college chum. 
We had roomed together and had been class rivals, but after graduation 
our paths diverged. I entered Scotland Yard, and he, after meeting with 
some financial losses, became a member of one of those notorious secret 
societies which have their home in many of the larger European capitals. 
So clever had been some of his deals that though many of our detective 
staff could vouch that he was the author, yet no one had even been able 
to amass enough evidence to warrant a prosecution. It was with a marked 
degree of interest that I perused this strange epistle. It read somewhat 
after this fashion: 

Dear Harold: London, March 10 

I know that you have had your suspicion about me all along. Well, hon- 
esty is the best policy for even crooks. So I own up to everything. I am not 
such a fool as to think that I can forever get away with this stuff. Someone 
is bound to nab me sooner or later, and for the sake of our past friendship, I 
would sooner have you do it than another. You know how it is in a secret 
organization. You are assigned to pull some deals, and you can't back down. 
Now, it has lately fallen to my lot to perform certain favors for our society 
in the different cities of England. Personally, I do not see how I can get away 
with it, but of course that does not matter. Now, I am going to wager that 
I will pull them off in spite of you. By the time you receive this letter I 
shall have a twenty-four hours' start of you. Are you game, as of old? 
Your old friend, GERALD DAY. 


Enclosed was a map with his route marked out, with dates affixed. 
This I studied carefully for some time, and from it ciphered that he was 
already nearly Portsmouth. For a time I was in a quandary as to what 
course to pursue. It was just characteristic of his old rivalry to make 
such a wager with me. Then there was the danger of his publishing the 
letter should he have performed the crooked work assigned him. Half an 
hour found me steaming out of the metropolis in the direction of the great 
naval base. At the first station I got out and wired an acquaintance of 
mine, also a detective, to be on the watch for Day. As he was well known, 
there was no need of my describing him. The ride to the Solent was beau- 
tiful, and were I not so seriously employed would have been much enjoyed. 

I found my friend waiting for me at the station. He had seen nothing 
of Day, yet a man of that name had registered in one of the largest hotels 
last night. He showed me a copy of the signature. A glance showed me 
that it was genuine. Day had been here. I made at once for the hotel. It 
was raining heavily, and the streets were sloppy. A letter had been await- 
ing my arrival. It bore the Bristol postmark. It was from Day. It read : 

Dear Harold: Bristol, March 12 

I knew your detective instinct would lead you to this hotel, hence my 

addressing this letter thither. By the way, I have too good a start of you 

now. You have practically no chance of catching me now. If you take my 

advice, you will take the next train back to London. 

Your friend, GERALD DAY. 

P. S. — I hope the showery weather in Portsmouth agrees with you. 

This letter so exasperated me that there was no question of my with- 
drawing from the contest. I was more than ever determined to catch him, 
and no consideration of past friendship should interfere with the course of 

As the next train did not leave for Bristol till four in the afternoon, I 
had some time to myself in the city. The day was still cloudy, and the 
damp of the atmosphere did not help to dispel my chagrin. I had but one 
purpose in view: Day was to be caught. It was with a feeling of relief 
that I at last boarded the car for Bristol. 

The lordly Severn was already in sight. Some newsboys had boarded 
the train, and I bought a copy of The Times. The headlines were signifi- 
cant. Holt's counting house had been robbed. The burglar had left his 
initials on the safe — they were G. D. I had suspected Day of some com- 
plicity, owing to some presentiment. But I was not prepared for such 
daring. Such a criminal, I argued, was worth catching. As I alighted from 
the train, I was handed a telegram. It was from Liverpool, and from 
Day. It ran: 

Dear Harold: I dare say you have already learned of that little stunt I 


pulled off in Holt's. When are you going to catch up with me? I had a 
better opinion of your powers as a detective. DAY 

In my few years of experience, I had never seen the equal of this case. 
The man told me what he was going to do, and I, a detective of great repute 
in England, could not catch him, when I all but knew where the crime was 
going to take place ! I thought that unless I could catch Day, it would mar 
my future. I knew the next place he would operate would be Liverpool, so 
I went to the station and bought a through ticket to Liverpool. I thought 
by doing this I would gain on Day, for he had stopped at Birmingham, and 
had probably spent several hours there, and I, by not stopping at Birming- 
ham, would gain over five hours. I risked a chance of losing him, for his 
next destination might not be Liverpool. But I thought it would be best to 
win or lose all at one thrust instead of making a fool of myself following 
him all over England. 

IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT of March the seventeenth when I arrived in 
Liverpool. The hour was too advanced to do anything that night, so I 
went to a hotel. Early next morning I went out to see if I could find any 
1 races of Day. It was nearly noon before I came upon anything like a clue. 
I had wandered into the police station, and asked several questions 
of the inspector if he had seen anyone resembling Day, or if there had been 
any suspicious characters around Liverpool for the last week or so. He 
replied in the negative, and was going out, when a policeman came in and 
the inspector asked if he had seen any suspicious-looking character the 
day before in Liverpool resembling my criminal. The policeman thought 
awhile and said, "He had seen a man early in the morning of the seven- 
teenth — it was about three or four o'clock. He was a suspicious-looking 
personage. He hung around the Liverpool Trust Company for about an 
hour. I asked if he appeared anything like Day, and I demanded a min- 
ute description of the man. He said he was about five feet six inches in 
height, had a slouchy walk, and one thing he noticed about the man was, 
as he passed under a street light, he had a scar on his left cheek. This 
fitted Day exactly, the height, the walk, and, especially the scar, for it 
was in a football game that he received the scar. 

This encouraged me very much, for I was nearly certain that Day was 
in Liverpool. I had no more clue for some time following, and I was get- 
ting discouraged, and thought Day had left for another city. It was on 
the morning of the twentieth, and I was about to start for Manchester, 
when, on reporting at police barracks, I learned from the inspector that 
there had been a small jewelry store robbed. The amount stolen was not 
significant, but the culprit had left this behind him. He showed me a 
small pennant which I easily recognized. It was the one Day had in his 


room at school. At last, thought I, I am on his trail. Here was a chance 
to make my reputation. I spent the following two days working up the 
clues, but they led to no trace of the criminal. It was on the morning of 
the twenty-third. I had just returned from one of my fruitless searches. 
A telegram was lying on my table. It bore the government stamp. It was 
from the chief at Scotland Yard. It was to this effect : 

Sir, it is my wish that you return immediately. The vault of the Bank of 
England has been rifled, and over a million pounds stolen. All the other detec- 
tives baffled. Perhaps you can make clear. 

I was at first inclined to take the telegram as a blind. But on further 
consideration, I concluded that there was nothing left for me but to obey. 
It was hard, as I believed myself on the point of succeeding in my quest. 

My journey to London was not of the happiest. My quixotic zeal had 
been tempered, and strange forebodings filled my mind. Arriving in the 
city, I immediately reported at headquarters. All the staff were glad of 
my coming, and it was not without feelings of pride that I viewed the value 
they placed in my assistance. I felt confident that the perpetrator's name 
would soon be known. So, indeed, it proved, for on entering my office, I 
found a letter awaiting me : 

Dear Harold: Somewhere on a Steamship 

My, but you fell for my ruse! Never did any of my college pranks work 
on you as this one. I am sure you will forget about it, even as you did of 
old. I had to get you out of the city. Otherwise I could never tackle the bank 
coup. You were the only detective I feared. Once I had you away, the rest 
was easy sailing. A few confederates managed the letter proposition, which 
were written some weeks ago by me and forwarded to them to be mailed at 
stated intervals and places. The signature at Portsmouth was genuine, too, 
as I took the trouble of taking a trip there so as to get you started. Since 
then I have been in London. I am now en route for a foreign shore where the 
hand of the law cannot reach me, seeing I only committed robbery. Remem- 
ber, it's a bad detective that thinks he cannot be fooled. Sic semper stultis! 
Ever yours, GERALD DAY. 

Many years have elapsed since the receipt of that fateful letter. I have 
risen in my profession. Where others have failed, I have often succeeded. 
My advice is still sought in the councils of Scotland Yard, but to this day 
no one knows why when we had lined up in the inspector's room the next 
morning to report on our investigations of the great bank robbery, and it 
came to my turn, I answered — 

"No clue!" 

The Psychology of Catholic 


ATHOLIC EDUCATION is a system of development of man, 
which has for its fundamental basis the Roman Catholic Re- 
ligion. In other words, education in the broad acceptation of 
the word, is not merely the work of the school, or a graduation 
of schools, but it is a life work. With each succeeding day 
we are learning something new. With each succeeding day 
those wonderful powers of soul and body, which God has given 
to every man, are more fully developed, more nearly perfected. 
But this development depends woefully on circumstances. So 
much so that poverty and ignorance, wealth and intelligence 
have become almost synonymous words. Not that every rich 
man is intelligent, or that every poor man is ignorant, but, as a 
general rule, the indigence of poverty forces the poor to undertake the 
humbler offices of humanity, narrows his sphere of activity, and confines 
his chances of advancement. 

It was in order to help towards the more complete education of rich 
and poor alike that the great masterpieces of human ingenuity and en- 
deavor have been analyzed and systematized until we have the properly 
so-called educational system of today. That system is one continual norm 
of development and method of advancement, and includes within itself — 
reading, writing, grammar, poetry, rhetoric, mathematics, the sciences, 
philosophy and art. It proposes for itself to form and fashion a man 
capable of holding a position in the community, not merely a filler-in to 
swell its numbers, but an ornament to his country, a leader and a power in 
prosperity and adversity. 

Now, it is in answer to the question whether or not religion must be 
an essential element of this system that the Catholic Church holds a plat- 
form characteristically and unqualifiedly her own. She not only claims, but 
asserts with all the authority of her divine offices, that religion must be the 
fundamental basis of the system as a whole, and of each individual feature 
in particular, that the training of the heart and the development of the 
mind must go hand in hand. And since there is but one true religion, that 
and that alone must have its influence in education. 

It is our aim in this paper to prove the logical necessity of this plat- 
form. We shall endeavor to prove that the very nature of man, and the 
very nature of his spiritual faculties demand that we bring religion into 
our system of education. 

"Putting two and two together," some one tells us, "is a simple expres- 


sion for a sublime and faithful work. Man, and man alone, can put two 
and two together. In that operation, man is severed from the beasts by a 
chasm which only God's omnipotence can bridge, because to put two and 
two together is the operation of a spiritual soul. By the same operation 
man gains experience, science and wisdom." It is this power of putting 
two and two together that we are now to consider. To do so, we must pen- 
etrate beyond to that part of man's life in which flesh and bones have no 
intrinsic action. Bound up in a mysterious and intimate connection with 
the body, yet separated from it by that almost infinite chasm, the spiritual 
faculty, which we call the intellect, is ever running on in its unceasing buzz 
of activity. Stop, it cannot, since that innate greed for knowledge will 
never be satiated until the light of the Divine Presence clears every mystery 
and settles every doubt. The intellect will go on putting two and two to- 
gether, affirming or denying the connection between twos and twos, think- 
ing thoughts shaped and colored by that particular phase of character to 
which it belongs. Every new object relayed by the senses will be a new 
source of knowledge. It may evolve to such proportions that its clearness 
of perception and astuteness of argumentation will be a source of wonder 
and astonishment. 

THERE IS NO NEED of dwelling at length on the practical development 
of this faculty. This is given ample attention in the present-day sys- 
tem. The chart of the kindergarten is the beginning of a long and tedious 
practice which receives its finishing touches when the mind delves deep 
down into the ultimate causes of things in the philosophy class. Rather, 
here, let us endeavor to prove the necessity of religion in keeping this 
faculty within the grounds of true reason. 

We have not far to go for such a proof. The eighteenth century gave 
birth to one of the greatest intellects the world has ever known. Emmanuel 
Kant has left behind him a new system of philosophy, which has had a tre- 
mendous influence on his successors. As popular as it is false, and as per- 
nicious as it is popular, its evil effects are enough to astound and frighten. 
Modernism is but one of its numerous offspring. "The secret of Kant's 
mistake," we are told by one of his critics, "lies in the fact that he had a 
bad start." We readily agree with this criticism, but in a far different 
sense than that intended. Kant's mistake lies in the fact that he chose as 
the foundation of his intellectual research, the philosophy of Wolff, and the 
physics of Newton. From his sixteenth to his twenty-second year he im- 
bibed the errors of these two men, and then started out to think and reason 
for himself. But it was not long before the superior intellect of Kant 
began to find weak spots in his foundation, to suspect and criticize both 
Newton and Wolff. He felt his foundation weakening and himself totter- 


ing. In this untroubled state of mind, he started out alone, unaided, with 
neither compass or light-house to navigate a crafty and a treacherous sea. 
Suppose that Kant had been born of Catholic parents; his babyhood 
had been spent in the arms, his boyhood at the knee of a Catholic mother ; 
his early training at a school where every branch of studies was given a 
Catholic interpretation. Then would the little intellect of Kant have had 
truth for the foundation of all his reasoning. Revelation would have been 
a compass to guide him safe and sound through every sea. Another would 
have been added to that brilliant land of Doctors of Holy Mother Church. 
Or, perhaps, the logical conviction of the one thing necessary would have 
spurred him on to sacrifice all to bring the poor and ignorant to the knowl- 
edge and love of God, and, like another Xavier, to spurn the brilliant chair 
of philosophy for the humbler, yet more glorious, pulpit of Jesus Christ. 

THIS IS WHY we appeal so earnestly for Catholic education. This is 
why we would color our literature, philosophy, science with a Catholic 
interpretation. This is why we would have the pictures of God, His Mother 
and His Saints on the class-room walls ; the Cathechism among the text- 
books, and the teacher robed in the habit of the religious. We would have 
the great fundamental truths of religion proposed to the child at the dawn 
of reason, repeated again and again until he familiarizes himself with 
them. Familiarizing himself with them, he will ponder over them. Pon- 
dering over them, he will realize their truth. Then, when the time for 
action comes, the motive for following the course laid down !>y Faith will 
be so strong that the will will throw itself in the direction proposed. Now, 
let the little intellect of man set forth. There will be no danger. It has a 

What must a man do to put two and two together? He must under- 
compass that will direct it through a safe and sound course. 

He must understand clearly; he must deliberate; he must affirm or 
deny that the single twos belong together ; he must draw a conclusion. By 
reflecting, then, on what he has done, he may draw far-reaching prin- 
ciples, and, associating other similar conclusions he may draw 
other principles. Principles, then, are put together, and order 
arises; and from order, system and science, and then wisdom." 

Thus does a certain writer graphically outline for us the 
workings of the human intellect. We reason, we draw conclusions. We 
deduce principles, and these principles we constitute the norm of our action. 
If there be a flaw in that reason, if there be an illogical leap in that deduc- 
tion, then we are following a false principle, and we are performing actions 
unworthy of the intellectual beings that we are. 

Someone has defined character as life built up on principle. A noble 
and true character is a life built up on noble and true principle. But first 


and foremost, the truth of that principle must be patent to the intellect, 
otherwise it can never give its consent, and the will will never direct its 
course accordingly. 

But when and how and where are you going to teach these principles ? 
You cannot direct man. Neither can you educate him with a double sys- 
tem. Take the example of a young man who from Sunday to Sunday hears 
not a word of God or his duties toward God. On Sunday he hears from the 
preacher's lips the law which he is bound to observe. The day after, every- 
thing that was said is forgotten, because no mention of God or the things 
of God ever escapes his teacher's lips. Then he tries to do something which 
no man could ever do — to live a dual life ; to learn and unlearn at the same 
time the maxims of Faith. He never realizes his great obligation in life, 
and, as regards his inner self, is ever walking in a hazy mist with no con- 
crete practical plan of life. He becomes disordered and discontent. Dis- 
ordered and discontented, he finds no real peace, for peace is the tranquil- 
lity of order and contentment. 

Before we turn to the will, you will pardon a seeming disgression while 
we take a rapid glance at man as he appears before us — the one whom we 
are to educate. 

As science rapidly advances, we get a deeper and deeper insight into 
this wonderful being. Already we have reached that little infinitesimal 
unit of life, the cell with its own little function. The cells number out into 
tissues. The tissues broaden into organs, and all, organs, tissues and cells, 
go to complete the organism of man. But this is not all. Within that organ- 
ism, bound up with it, , part and parcel with it, there is another system, 
more elevated in its nature, and even more mysterious in its operations. Its 
duty is to carry impressions received from without to a center, and therein 
some indescribable way to know the impressions. This knowledge we call 
sensitive, cognitive life. So there is a parallel life going on within us at the 
same time, and, yet, it is the same life. Day after day that wonderful 
pounding force-pump, which we call the heart, is sending the blood coursing 
through vein and artery, to cure and build up, to break down and carry 
away. And all the time we are seeing, feeling, hearing, touching, tasting, 
smelling — with every new perception, with every new sensation that sensi- 
tive life within us becomes more sensitive and more or less refined accord- 
ing to the more or less refined manner in which we use our senses. 

Yet, wonderful as is this two-fold nature, curious its structure, and 
mysterious its operation, there is another life in man, or, rather, another 
feature of the same life, structureless in its nature, yet giving to man his 
own peculiar essence and making him what he really is — man. It raises 
him above the brute creation. It makes him a little less than the angels. 


It crowns him with glory and honor. By this life, man is enabled to know 
things by their very nature and essence, to reason on the nature of things, 
to understand. 

This is the seeming paradox in the nature of man, three activities and 
one soul. This is the being which we must educate. We cannot dissect 
man into three parts, putting vegetative life in one, sensitive in another 
and spiritual in another. For these three lives are but one life, and the 
principle of all their activity is one, integrally and essentially. The first 
principle, then, of every true system of education must be a unifying prin- 
ciple — on e that will write these three activities, blend them into one and 
harmoniously develop them to one true end. 

What is this true end ? Question man and ask him what is it towards 
which he is tending, and he will answer you that it is the love and desire 
of some object. It may be that his love is misplaced. It may be that his 
sun-seared soul is carried on into an awful state of degradation. Yet will 
he confess that it is the love of this filthy pleasure that vitalizes his every 
action and sends him running, laughing, jeering to what he knows not, and 
cares less. 

But what love is worthy of man? Is it the love of himself? No code 
of morals, whether Catholic or anti-Catholic ; whether natural or supernat- 
ural, ever taught love of self and stood the test of time. Is it something 
that must perish with the grave? Surely, we are not building up a charac- 
ter that will shed forth its splendor for a while o nits sordid surroundings ; 
in the evening glow with all the fire and intensity of its own devotion, and 
then sink forever into the gloom of an internal night. Is it the love of any 
created thing? "Non omnis moriar," cries out the pagan poet in his vain 
endeavor to seek something that will not perish with the grave, but will 
live on forever. Need I draw the conclusion? Is it not self-evident that 
man will never be true to his nature and loyal to the pleadings of his own 
neart until he puts before him as the only end of his existence the love of 
an infinite, an uncreated, an eternal and all-loveable being, who is none 
other than the great, good God Himself? "Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with thy whole heart, with thy whole soul, with thy whole mind and 
with all thy strength." This is the first and greatest Commandment. 

Scripture itself in these words tells how we must educate man. Mind, 
heart and soul; nevetative, animal and intellectual life must tend to that 
noblest end of all, the honor and glory of God. There must be an order- 
ing of parts so that one will not retard the other. There must be a rule of 
life that will unify man and make him one; make him realize all the un- 
fathomable beauty and excellence of his own exalted dignity and mysterious 
life ; make him feel in their deepest intensity human sorrow and human 


love ; make him rise above the filthy pleasure of a fallen passion, and yet, 
withal, develop his every faculty and power to their highest pitch, and 
blend them all into one beautiful and melodious song of praise and love. 

We have not far to go for such a rule. We have but to ascend the 
stone steps of the church with the cross-topped spire, enter within and lend 
an ear to the code she teaches. It is religion, and religion alone ; it prevents 
him from attempting to ascend even to the throne of the Most 
High. It prescribes mortification for the body. It bridles the brute 
in man and makes it the slave of the spirit. It ever reminds the 
spirit that it must bear around with it as part of its own self a tainted na- 
ture. In a word, religion subjects body to spirit, and body and spirit to the 
one, true God. It unifies body and spirit by directing their every aspira- 
tion and endeavor to a pure and generous love. 

THE HUMAN BODY has often been compared to a city. Let us dwell 
somewhat at length on this comparison, for it will help bring out in 
clearer relief the question under discussion. Taking our stand, then, on 
some high elevation, we cast our gaze down on a busy city beneath. The 
first object to attract our attention is a square building of white stone, with 
lofty spire and a great round clock. Here is the office of the ruler of the 
city. As we turn our eyes, we see naught but a dull succession of brown 
and red and white and stone buildings, broken at length by a bright, green 
little park with its paved paths and silver, rippling fountain. It is about 
this part that the wealthy dwell. And all that dull succession of brown and 
red and white buildings are the workhouses of the city — the busy depart- 
ment stores, the sultry factory, the homes of invention and manufacture. 
Over there against the river that runs its zig-zag course along the outskirts 
of the city, stand the shanty and the tenement house, the home of the 
laborer and the poor. And there come up from that city beneath, tumbling 
waves of sound. The screaming of whistle contrasts with the deep and 
piercing moan of the horn ; the heavy rumbling of car and coach with the 
shrieking overtone of machinery; the dull drone of electricity with the 
tinkling of bells ; the clang of alarm with the ringing clash of the hammer. 
In the midst of all we hear the low murmur of human voices. 

All these sounds, both human and mechanical, convey to us the idea 
of a city where men dwell together in concord ; where each fulfils with joy- 
ful eagerness his own task; where a noble, just and law-abiding people are 
ruled by a noble and just law. If that ruler were not just but wicked, with- 
out a radical change, that city could never stand. For rebellion and dis- 
order would soon crush its vitality. Instead, however, there is going on a 
steady progress. Some are carrying off refuse, while others are bringing 
in the tall timbers of the forest, the grain from the fields, marble and gran- 


ite from the quarry, coal and ore from the mine. Everywhere we see recon- 
struction and advancement. And all is regulated and governed by one 
ruler. Perhaps this picture inclines more to the ideal than the real. We 
nave drawn it to serve our purpose. 

One cannot but be surprised at the strange similarity between a city 
such as this and our own human nature. It has its labors, its wealthy, 
its rulers. Like the city, yet in deep contrast to it, it is ever plodding on 
in silent, yet regular activity. It has its laborers in the million, tiny cells 
which toil on unceasingly. Its great force-pump rivals that of cities. Its 
levers regulate its locomotion. Quicker than a flash, its telegraphic system 
sends and receives its messages. With measured accuracy, it takes in the 
good from without and sends off the refuse. So sooner does accident hap- 
pen than the blood sends its cohort of workers, and reconstruction begins. 
Every cell, tissue and organ has its duty, and that duty is to tend to the 
preservation and prosperity of the great whole. It has its wealthy in that 
sensitive appetite white seeks ever after idleness, enjoyment, pleasure, and 
would glut itself even at the expense of the whole. 

It has its ruler; a potentate more absolute than any ruler of town or 
city ; that can with dogged perseverance refuse the necessary sustenance 
to our human nature and watch it sink slowly and wither away ; that can 
destroy the whole and laugh destruction in the face ; that can by one word 
bury forever the whole man, vegetative, sensitive and intellectual life in a 
putrid pool of flaming fire. This potentate is man's will, the queen and 
ruler of all his activiy. How, then, unify man ? Take his will and train it 
to keep its true office. Let it hold a tight and stiff rein over every other 
appetite and direct itself and all to the one true end. To effect this, reli- 
gion must come in, not as a useful help, but as a vital and essential ele- 
ment of its training, as the predominating motive of all its actions. 

The intellect and will are so intimately connected that some have come 
to the belief that there is no real distinction between them. On account 
of this proximity, we see the first influence of religion on the will, i. e., the 
proposition of true motives. Under the interpretation of the teacher it 
will not follow every inspiration of the author, but, separating good from 
evil, it will reject the latter and embrace the former. 

But the most direct influence of religion on the human will lies in the 
fact that it puts a sanction on every act of the will. We know only too well 
what a world of meaning lies in the word free which we predicate of our 
will. We know that it can reject the motives of right reason and spend 
itself in the flimsy nonsense of the fool. It can reject God and embrace 
Sin. When sin has entered, there exists a terrible misery within man. The 
reason is evident. He is not living as man. If it be sensuality, we have but 


the old story of the mob. With burning torch and spear, with club and 
stone, it assaults the dwelling of the ruler. With loud voice it demands 
entrance. With louder command it dictates to lawful authority. Then the 
weak ruler, trembling with fear, descends from his lawful place and be- 
comes the plaything of furiated passion. If it be pride, we have the old 
self-centered monarch. No mob rises up against him. His people fear him. 
He sacrifices their every desire, their every interest, their every joy to his 
own selfishness. He hears the low murmurings of hate, and with a sneering 
cruckle, he scorns them. Two states such as these we must avoid. Our will 
is rightful queen of all our appetites. She must never become the tool of 
passion, nor must she, forgetting those depending on her, try to ascend to 
a realm of spiritual selfishness. 

Her's is a path between these two extremes. She must give passion 
what is its due, but never glut it. She must make it a help and a means by 
which she herself reaches the end of her existence. It is here that religion 
comes into man's life by prescribing a concrete norm or method for using 
these passions and faculties. When man acts according to this norm, re- 
ligion sanctions it by his own inward consciousness of having done what is 
right, and by sealing that act with a Divine and Eternal approbation. It 
satisfies the emotional part of nature by placing living, throbbing examples 
for admiration and imitation. It places before man's view a Heart of Flesh, 
sustaining the mortal life of a God-Man. It puts before him as his Queen 
and Mother a Woman fairer than the snow, "his tainted nature's solitary 
boast." It shows how he must fight a soldier's fight against immorality 
and vice by imitating a Paul and a Xavier. L. M. 


In wafts of oriental musk, 

The silk-clad geisha girls of Spring 
Between the beryl curtain's dusk, 
Lean out and lure us, wondering. 

Their lilac silk with silver gleams 
In dance of joy with every breeze, 

Brown eyes are lit with lover's dreams, 
Swaying to Nippon melodies. 

QHjateau QUfferrg 

On the road out of Chateau Thierry, 

By the hill where we halted the Hun ; 
Near "Suicide Lane" and "Death Valley," 

Where the Boches' retreat was begun, 
There's an acre of crude little crosses, 

Where we buried young Sergeant Monroe, 
And a crowd of his comrade crusaders 

Whose names we may never quite know. 
And some day that road will be teeming 

With Pilgrims who venture to go 
To "Humanity's Holy of Holies," 

On the road by the "Bois De Belleau." 
Some will be looking for brother, 

Others for father or son, 
Many for husband or sweetheart, 

Or comrade who stayed with the gun. 
God, grant they come in the sunshine, 

While the spring flowers bloom on the grave, 
And may they be proud of our comrades, 

And glad for the gift that they gave. 

—J. M., A.B. '21 

3I}? g>prtngIfUltan 

VOL. XI. APRIL, 1919 No. 3 

Snarfc nf Simons— 191H-19 


Editor-in-Chief: T. HAILS 
Junior Editor: M. BURKE 

Alumni Editor: W. HARTWELL College Locals: G. SCHWEGMAN 

Exchange Editor: J. KOPECKV Chronicle: A. CROCI 

Associate Editors: V. MAHONEY, M. MAHORXER 

Business Manager: 
Advertising Manager: M. VlCKERS Circulation Manager; W. CURREN 

Artist: JOHN FABACHER Athletics: S. R.EYNAUD 



January 6, 1919, marked a change of Presidents for Spring Hill. Fr. 
Cummings, who so ably piloted the college destinies during the last six 
years, left to resume further responsibilities at Loyola. His work at Spring 
Hill needs no citation. Everything around us bears witness to his devoted- 
ness. Many are the monuments he has left us of his labors. Fr. Cummings' 
departure was a loss to Spring Hill — yet not to the college alone, for Mobile 
bile also claimed him as one of her most representative citizens. This the 
following editorial which we quote from The Register will go to prove : 

A distinguished educator, a Christian gentleman and a devout priest will be lost to 
Mobile in the call of the Reverend Edward Cummings, S.J., from the presidency of 
Spring Hill College to duties elsewhere in conformity with the canon, after six full and 
fruitful years of administration of that famed institution of learning. Under his lead- 
ership, the seat of education whose life is interwoven with the history of Mobile, has 
flourished and set a new high mark in efficiency and scholarship attendance. 

In the personal relation, he early commanded the approval of students and asso- 
ciates, that ripened into affection — extending before the end to the whole citizenship — 
for he demonstrated when the call came to him, his lofty ideas of patriotism and his 
readiness to devote himself to the cause of Liberty. 

We take it that it was inherent modesty that kept from attention his capacity as a 


lucid and eloquent orator. It was only in these later days of storm and stress that 
forced him to the front. The righteousness of the war in which America was engaged 
and his whole-souled devotion to the cause in which humanity was enlisted overcame his 
reticence; and he responded to the call of the various committees to thrill his hearers 
with the strength of his thought, and the eloquence of its presentation. 

Father Cummings will be missed from the community. We think we speak the 
universal opinion, without regard for race or creed, when we say that the well wishes 
of our citizenship go with him to whatever field his call and his duty take him. 

Regarded as a distinguished educator, his services were eagerly 
sought in every civic movement, and his talents as a speaker were con- 
stantly in requisition during the war drives. 

Father Kearns is no stranger to Spring Hill. Her first alumnus to 
fill the President's chair, he had long endeared himself to students and 
faculty as Prefect, Professor and Vice-President. We feel that the progress 
which the college received under the direction of its last President will be 
developed and bring forth further fruits under its new President. Prospere, 
procede ! 

H. MAHORNER, A.B. '21 


Spring Hill has had no lack of illustrious sons to do honor to her name. 
Church and bar and battlefield have all had of her best, and from all has 
come no small meed of praise. And now from yet another quarter we hear 
of great things done, and of more to come. It is a hero of the moleskins 
we celebrate — the greatest player of all the time — "Moon" Ducote. It is 
with no little pride that we claim "Moon" as an alumnus, but when we add 
that it has been our good fortune to secure this old alumnus as our coach, 
it is indeed subject for congratulation. 

We doubt if any hero of the gridiron can point to a record as brilliant 
as his. We need but mention the famous battle in which Auburn held the 
great Ohio State Eleven to a scoreless tie. "Moon" was the hero of the 
day, and every critic of the game declared that it was the marvelous work 
of Ducote that kept from the Westerners, for the first time that season, 
the laurels of victory. 

The crowning achievement of his football career was when playing 
with the Cleveland Middies he sent down to defeat the Pittsburgh Eleven 
that for seasons had known no equal. It was after this game that Coach 
Paupa hailed him as the greatest player of all time. 

On the diamond "Moon's" work has been of no ordinary stamp. Time 
and again his long hits have meant victory for Spring Hill and Auburn. 


And those who are best fitted to judge, believe that as a catcher he has 
great possibilities. 

Fortunate, indeed, are we that Moon's loyalty to old Spring Hill caused 
him to turn a deaf ear to many a dazzling offer, and to return to give of 
his best to his Alma Mater. We feel that, knowing Spring Hill and Spring 
Hill boys as he does, his return as coach will mark the beginning of a new 
era in our College athletics. 

— E. REED, A.B. '19 


The buds of May are bursting forth 

Where last November thawed the trees. 

The books rejoice and dance away 
With merriment and springtime ease. 

Each April is December's death, 

Though oft this life seems storm and gloom, 

Confide in God ; we wait a Spring 

Beyond the Winter of the Tomb. — G.P. 



Briey, France, December 3, 1918 

Dear : If you will take a glance at the map you will see that Briey, 

France, is right on the border in territory that the Germans occupied until the day of 
evacuation, and no doubt you will wonder what we are doing up there. Now that the 
censorship rules are lifted wo are free to tell where we are and where we have been, 
I am going to tell you my entire story — it may be interesting in some ways to you, but 
it really would have to be experienced to be appreciated, because this war, unlike other 
wars, does not possess those thrilling instances that read so well in books and papers, 
but I can say from experience that in the real it was far more thrilling than any war 
ever fought, not that I ever fought in any other, but I have read a great deal about 
them if I remember the old Fredets Modern History that we used to pour over at Spring 
Hill. We left Camp Taylor, Ky., on August 22, for Camp Upton, New York; arriving 
at Camp Upton, we received our finishing touches in equipment, and were ready to 
leave on the 29th, and as all moves then were secret, we left camp that night on the 
Long Island railroad at midnight, arriving at Long Island City about 4 o'clock of the 
morning of the 30th. Here we took one of the large ferries for Hoboken, and we went 
up the gang plank of the liner Kroonland just as the sun was rising. There were no 
cheers, no bands playing — just the steady tread of hob-nailed shoes marching up the 
plank. The Kroonland was a very nice size ship, and carried about four thousand 
troops. Of these, about one thousand were negro troops. We were convoyed out of 
New York by four destroyeyrs and one battle cruiser. The destroyers left us after 
we were about six hours out, and the cruiser stayed with the convoy. We had four- 
teen ships in our convoy, and all troopships, and they certainly presented a wonderful 
sight — fourteen ships in a line. We had two days of very rough weather, and nearly 
everyone was sick, especially the negroes. One of them amused me very much one 
night when I was officer of the day on the lower deck, by saying, "Lieutenant, I shore 
knows why Columbus kissed the ground when he landed." The Chaplain on the boat 
was a Jesuit Father, Dalton, a former teacher in Georgetown College. After a four- 
teen-day trip we landed at Brest. I forgot to state that two days out of Brest our 
destroyers came out to meet us and convoy us through the danger zone. There were 
ten of them, and they certainly looked ready for action as they turned and squirmed 
through the heavy sea. We remained at a rest camp in Brest for three days, and then 
another night march. Leaving the rest camp at 2 o'clock in the morning, we marched 
through Brest to the railroad station, where we took a train for Le Mans, the men all 
riding in the little French freight cars marked "Hommes 35 to 40. Chevaux 8," lovingly 
called by the m&n "Forty-eights." We remained in Le Mans for three days, taking a 
course in gas training and also being issued our steel helmets. From here we went to 
Langres, acting as a base hospital, for about two weeks, and very dry work at that, 
and when finally the word came to move forward, it was greeted with yells by the men 
who were anxiuos to get to the front. We then went to Somme-Py, which is above 
above Chalons, and right behind the French army. Here we went into tents and 
camped right behind the lines, about eight miles. Everything here was nothing but 
ruins, and the ground was covered with German dead who had fallen only a few days 
before we arrived, and enough ammunition to run an army for a couple of days was 
strewn over the ground, machine gun belts, hand grenades, rifles and shells of all 
sizes and kinds. We knew we were in it then, because the continual roar of the guns 


lasted all day, and the flashes lit up the sky at night, and the wounded poured in on 
us in one continual stream. The pretty thing about our outfit is that we are very mobile. 
We sneak up just as close behind the lines as possible without letting the enemy know, 
and all our work is surgical, saving the life of many a man by handling his case right 
off the field, and as we do not have much space, we evacuate them right away to the 
rear to some base hospital. When the Boche artillery locates our position, we fold 
our tents like the Arab and move back a little, only to move up again further on the 
line. After staying here a short while, we were sent to St. Mihiel, already famous in 
America's history of this war, because it was our doughboys who reduced the St. Mihiel 
salient which the Huns had held for four years. At this place we were only bothered 
by a few Boche planes which came over every day about noon to see what we were 
doing, but the anti-aircraft batteries all around us kept them flying so high that I don't 
think they saw anything, because they never bothered us in the least. While we were 
at St. Mihiel, the armistice was signed, and a few days later we were notified we were 
among the picked troops chosen to compose the army of occupation. We were on our 
way to Coblenz, Germany, when quite a few of our boys took down with the flu, and of 
course we had to stop and open up our hospital here at Briey, and we have in our hos- 
pital now about 1200 patients. We are not in tents now. We have taken over a large 
French hospital which was used by the Germans for the four years of the war, and it 
is certainly an up-to-date affair. In fact, when we took the hospital over there were 
several German patients in it and several German officers left to take care of them. 
It was only a few days after that we had them taken away, because we do not trust 
them. The work is slacking down now, and before long we expect to be on the move 
into Germany. The above is a brief sketch of what we have been doing, without say- 
ing anything about the excellent work of our doughboys, who licked the Hun in every 
angle of the game, but I guess you have read about all those things by now. I am 
enclosing a picture or two taken at St. Mihiel. The one with the steel helmet was 
taken in a wrecked building, and the group picture was taken on the banks of the 
Meuse. Sorry I have not had the chance to write you before, but I have been busy 
day and night, and this is the first real opportunity that I have had. Hoping that you 
are well, and hoping that I will hear very soon from my best friend, I am, 
Sincerely, LT. E. J. BYRNE, 

Evacuation Hospital No. 18, 
American Expeditionary Forces 

&. &. jfc .ik. :& 

?f\ Sf\ /fL /f\ Sfi 


American Red Cross, 
On Active Service With the American Expeditionary Force, 

December 4, 1918 

Dear : I received a letter from you a little more than two weeks ago, 

but have received none since that time. Now that the censorship has lifted, we are 
allowed to tell of our whereabouts and of our part while overseas. 

We left Camp Hancock on April 30, and went to Camp Upton, where we stayed for 
three or four days, and boarded the Aquitania at the Cunard docks on May 6, and 
sailed on the 7th. We were on the water for seven days, and landed in Liverpool on 
May 14. We marched through Liverpool and boarded the train for Folkestone, and re- 
mained there for about thirty-six hours. We then boarded the train again and went to 


Dover, where we stayed overnight. Early the next morning we boarded a channel boat 
and arrived in Calais. Get a map of France. Now, here is where our trouble begins. 

We stayed at Calais for four days, sleeping fifteen to an eight-man tent. We left 
Calais on a train and passed through St. Omer, and got off at Lumbres and hiked to a 
small village called Le Woast, about 15 kilos from Boulogne. We stayed three weeks 
there training under the British and starving on said British rations. Early one morn- 
ing we started on a hike towards Arras, passing the towns of Fruges, etc., and landed 
in St. Pol, about ten miles back of Arras (we hiked sixty miles in three days). From 
there we boarded a train and passed through Paris and went to Roissy, not far from 
Paris. We stayed there for one week under the "Poilus" or "Frogs." We left this place 
on trucks, and went through Logne, Crecy, etc., and landed at Rebais, about twelve or 
fifteen kilos back of Chateau Thierry. 

We left this place within a week, and went to Grand Forest, still closer to Cha- 
teau Thierry. From there we went to Esses, about four kilos from Chateau Thierry, 
and it was there that we spent the memorable night of July fifteenth. After leaving 
this place, we went on to Chateau Thierry, and followed up, being under shell fire all 
of the time. We passed through Fere-en-Tardenois, Coulonges, Chalmes (where Quentin 
Roosevelt is buried), through Cierges, Siringes, Chery, etc., until we came face to face 
with the enemy at Fismes on August 6. On this march from Chateau Thierry to 
Fismes, we lost men by ones and twos all the way up. It was at Fismes and Fismettes 
that the Germans did anything for vengeance, using on us high explosives or G. I. 
cans, shrapnel, whizbangs, every gas invented, potato mashers, machine guns and 
rifles using explosive cartridges, and even their flamewerffers, or liquid fire. At this 
place we lost about seventy or eighty men. It was at P'ismettes that G and H compa- 
nies of the 112th Infantry were annihilated. Only about fifteen men remained of the 
two companies, and it was at the same place that we fought for six hours (being almost 
entirely surrounded) to keep back that which happened to the Second Battalion of the 
112th two days later. 

We went for four days here on one hard-tack. We were almost tempted to eat the 
bodies that were lying around, and grass was a delicacy fit for a king — we thought. 
We could not get anything to eat here, as we were cut off from the company. 

We then went back and got forty men as replacements, and went up again. This 
was about September 5, but we were soon relieved by the Frogs. We went back to a 
place called Chemmon, close to Chalons-subMarne, and stayed there for four or five 
days, hiking from that place to the Argonne Forest. We again started "Hell" proper. 

This was the place on God's green earth. Men were hacked to pieces like a 

place for cattle slaughter, heads, arms, brains, etc., lying around like pebbles. We lost 
about fifteen or twenty men at this place, and I owe my life to some German munition 
maker for making a defective shell. Men were keeling over from fatigue, right and 
left. It was here that the tanks spilled the beans for us by getting us all killed, almost. 

We left this place and went back to a place called Cornesville, not far from Toul 
and Nancy, and stayed there for about four days, and I left for my furlough to the 
Alps, and stayed at Aix Les Banic, in Savoy, for one week, returning to the outfit on 
the lines in the Mihiel sector. I stayed there for two days, and my turn came to satisfy 
the Dutchman's spleen, so I got a pretty nice dose of mustard and phosgene gas, and 
went to Base Hospital on 87, in Toul. From Base 87 I went to Base 210, at the same 
place, and have been here ever since, and don't know what is going to happen to us or 
anything else, but I certainly hope that we go home, but that is too good to be true. 

This gives you a general outline of our travels, and I will tell you the details later. 


The large cities we have been in are Boulogne, Liverpool, Dover, Calais, Chateau 
Thierry, Fismes, Toul, Nancy, Aix-Les-Baines, and passing through London and Paris, 
but not stopping. We could see Eiffel Tower in the distance. 

All of my mail is forwarded to me from the company, so my address is the same. 
Affectionately your son, 

Company D, 109th M. G. Bn, A. E. F. 


Arc-en-Barrois, New Year's Day, 1919 

I have tried time and again to get a real long letter off to you, but every time 
something has come up to interfere with its completion. Sometimes I've had it all ready 
and had to carry it around with me at the front, and it would get soaking wet, as we 
often slept on the rain-soaked ground. 

On November 11, when the war ended, we had just taken a town that had been 
in German hands since 1914, and had been there about four days. At eight o'clock on 
a Monday morning the official notice came down to "cease firing." Thereafter not a 
shot could be heard. To appreciate this condition you would have to be as we were — 
several months at a stretch never out of sound of the guns, and often in the very thick 
of heavy fighting. It was so quiet as to be almost unnatural, but everybody, soldiers 
and civilians alike, were overjoyed. This happened just outside Sedan. We had quite 
a close shave the last night of the war. At two o'clock that morning, six hours before 
the war ended, we were asleep in what had been a German prison camp. It was sit- 
uated on the edge of the village. We were awakened by stones and shell fragments 
striking the roof, and soon found out that the Germans were shelling the road just out- 
side. The shells were coming too close for comfort, and every two or three-inch shell 
would send a shower of dirt and stones all over the place. We just sat tight, hoping 
that no shell would come in the roof, because that would have meant good-bye for a good 
many of us. After half an hour, the Germans stopped. That was the last shell fire 
we were subjected to. 

We are now in the town of Arc-en-Barrois, a small but pretty and rather prosper- 
ous little village. The large estate of the Duke of (Means is located here. It has a 
magnificent chateau, which is now used as an English hospital. It is one of the best 
hunting and fishing countries in France. Wild boar and small deer are very plentiful, 
and I have had some very good meals at the French houses here. I have been down 
with the grippe for about a week, but am coming around all right now. We are living 
in billets (French houses set aside for our use). We drill every day and have target 
practice and such things, although God knows just what use it is now. I suppose it's 
just to keep us busy. I don't know just when we'll get home, but my guess is about 
the end of March. 

I see the boat I came over on — the Northern Pacific — has run aground near Fire 
Island. I am enclosing a photograph from a New York paper. It contains my picture, 
which is marked with a cross. All the men in the picture are in our battery. The 
caption at the bottom is entirely incorrect, as we were nowhere St. Mihiel nor Metz 
at the time. The picture was taken about a mile from a town called Chary, and about 
four miles south of the city of Fismes. It was taken in August by the bandmaster, and 
the K. of C. man forwarded it to the New York newspaper. 

We first went into action about July 8, in the extreme Eastern section of the line 


at a place called Baccarat. We traveled from the training camp by rail for three days 
and reached our destination at 11 p. m. All lights had to be kept out as we neared 
the war zone. At 11 o'clock we stopped, and by 1 o'clock had everything unloaded and 
started by road to the front. We were all very much impressed, as we travelled along 
in utter darkeness through the dead of night, but if we only knew it the first sector 
was what is known as a rest sector — very quiet. The policy of both sides was "If you 
don't fire at me, I won't fire at you." At daybreak we reached a place in the woods 
where we made a camp. From here it was about four miles to the front. The guns 
were brought up the following two nights, and the men who stayed at the guns slept 
in a house about 100 yards away. It was very pretty country, but as war it was a joke. 
The French soldiers had a canteen down the road, and of an evening you could see Amer- 
ican soldiers drinking champagne and singing, but never fighting. Once in a great 
while a little firing would be done. 

After about three weeks here we were suddenly rushed helter-skelter into quaran- 
tine, owing to the case of typhus. Many of the boys had bought large quantities of 
jam, milk, eggs, etc., and to see them struggling down the road to the disinfecting sta- 
tion three miles away with a whole delicatessen store, tied on with strings, was a 
funny sight. And speaking of drinks, in America champagne is always associated with 
gay restaurant parties or fashionable dinners, but not so in France. Here it is drunk 
in stables, box cars, dug outs, and such inappropriate places. Well, that was the end 
of our first front. It was in the Vosges mountains, and was strictly a training front 
to break in green troops. It was about 40 miles from Luneville, and about 35 miles 
from Metz. After we left there that sector became quite active again. 

When we left there, we started for our second sector. We went by train toward 
Paris, but struck off about forty miles away, and began traveling by road at night. 
This was our first attempt at real warfare, and it was quite a novel experience. We 
traveled from dusk till dawn. Not a light to be seen. You travel along roads filled 
with artillery, infantry, engineers, etc., all going up towards the front, while train after 
(rain of big auto trucks from the quartermaster's go back and forth, loaded to the 
limit with supplies of every kind. In this manner you will ride down the country roads 
— uphill and down, without a single light to break the darkness. Even smoking is pro- 
hibited, otherwise enemy aeroplanes would know the roads were crowded and bomb the 
roads. From time to time you pass into a French village, and sometimes a town or city 
of fair size. Here the same condition prevails. Every house is in utter darkness. 
There are very few of these towns inhabited any more. The people were ordered out 
and the towns taken over by the military authorities. Just before dawn the regiment 
moves into some woods, where breakfast is made. Then we sleep during the day, and 
move on again the nevt night. It has been a great experience. In this second sector 
we traveled 20 to 25 miles a night on horseback for three nights. We would pass 
through villages formerly occupied by the Germans, but recaptured by the French. In 
the darkness you could just make out the walls still standing, and the roofs punctured 
by shell holes. These towns and villages are practically in ruins, but the old inhabi- 
tants can be seen once in a while where they come back to what is left of their homes. 

On the second night of our march we passed through Chateau Thierry about mid- 
night. This is the town where the United States Marines made their now-famous stand 
and stopped the German advance. Chateau Thierry was an important railway center, 
on the direct line to Paris. It is situated on the banks of the Marne river, and if the 
Germans had crossed it, the road to Paris would be open to them. The Germans got pos- 
session of half the town, which was on the north side of the river, while the Americans 


held the other half on the south side. An intense battle raged for several days, while 
the Germans tried to cross, but the Americans were successful in holding them back. 
I talked to some of the men who had fought there — men I met on the road in the 
middle of the night. As we were journeying up to the front to relieve them, they 
were coming back to go to rest camps. One of them, an engineer, told me that the 
Americans built pontoon bridges again and again, but they were always destroyed by 
German artillery before they could be set in place. A pontoon bridge is built by engi- 
neers. It consists of many rafts built of logs and nailed over with heavy planking. On 
a dark night the rafts are rushed to the river and chained together and pushed out piece 
by piece into the stream. Of course, the enemy concentrate their heavy fire on the 
point where the bridge is being set, so you can see the engineers have a rather dan- 
gerous job. As the Marne river at this point is only as wide as a city block, it makes 
pretty tough work for the men who are putting the bridge out. Sometimes they throw 
a smoke screen across the river at several points to conceal their work. This is done 
by having the artillery fire a smoke shell, which sends up a cloud of heavy smoke and 
prevents the enemy from seeing what is going on. Finally, the engineers got the 
bridge across, and the Marines crossed at once, in the face of heavy fire. Once on the 
other side, heavy hand-to-hand fighting took place, but the Americans were victorious, 
an! turned the German advance into a retreat. It was the beginning of the German 
downfall. They pushed the Germans back 36 miles in 10 to 12 days, and it was our 
job to follow up these 36 miles by night, and relieve these men after their hard work. 
As we passed over these 36 miles of road, we saw evidences of the terrific fighting that 
was going on. The Germans were certainly forced out in a hurry, as they left behind 
them thousands of rounds of artillery shells, and actually millions of rifle and ma- 
chine gun bullets. The roads and fields for the entire distance were covered with 
clothing, messkits, rifles, bayonets, ammunition — in fact, everything you could think 
of. Much of it was valuable military equipment. 

We passed through Belleau Wood, where the Germans had made a desperate coun- 
ter attack in their retreat. The smell from decaying bodies — men and horses — was so 
great that many men had to put on their gas masks to avoid becoming sick. Not a 
pleasant subject, but was as it really is. We camped on the edge of Belleau Wood at 
dawn. It will live long in my memory. A large chateau set in the woods, all torn to 
splinters by shell fire. Dozens of telephone wires running out of every room, for it 
had been used as a headquarters. The back yard filled with American graves, 40 or 
50 of them, in orderly rows, with little pine crosses and the identification tags tacked 
on. They were the first American graves I saw, and they left me with an uncomfort- 
able feeling. A big p:ray, marshy lake at the back of the house, and woods and roads 
filled with dirt and rubbish of every kind, and the air heavy with the smell of death. 
In the thicker part of the woods, men would sometimes fall and lie unburied for weeks. 
We pulled out at dusk for the third and last night of the trip. For me it was 
the hardest, as I was given charge of a carriage that broke down and had to go a 
roundabout way, totalling 26 miles. On this night we were pulling well up toward the 
front, and could see the flashes on the horizon where the artillery of both sides were 
at work. We could also see in places the whole sky lighted up by star shells, which 
are very much like those skyrockets which hang in the air and light up all the heavens. 
These are sent up by both sides to light up No Man's Land, which is the little strip of 
land between the enemy'.-; trenches and our own. By this means each side can tell 
whether the enemy is sending over any men at night on a surprise attack. You can 
also see any number, of rockets of different colors, which are signals sent by the infan- 


try to the artillery. You can see these rockets and lights, and nothing else, as not an- 
other light is visible for miles in any direction. Occasionally, from overhead comes 
the faint throb of an aeroplane motor. Sometimes an Allied plane — sometimes a Ger- 
man. Yo'i can tell the difference by the sound the motor makes. The Allied motor 
gives a smooth, unbroken hum. The German, a succession of heavy throbs, like a pow- 
erful pump at work If it's a German, sometimes he'll drop a bright light, which hangs 
suspended from a parachute. Tf he sees traffic on the road, he'll drop bombs. A pleas- 
ant fellow. If it's a German, huge searchlights generally open up on him, and high 
up in the sky you can see the shells burst where the anti-aircraft guns are firing at him. 
They are hard to hit, as they fly at a great height, but once in a while one is struck, 
and then he comes down like a shot. In the distance you can hear the sound of the 
guns, and if the wind is right you car hear the rattle of rifle shot and machine gun. 
The only living souls we now pass are an occasional sentry or a military police stand- 
ing dimly on guard outside a town, or in the town square, and the boys who are com- 
ing out of the line as we go in. 

Just at dawn, we reached our final eschalon, which is the camping place of the 
artillery. It is generally situated out of enemy range, about 8 or 10 miles back of the 
lines. Here we made a permanent camp and rested all day. We were now ready to 
mov.j our guns up to the front into firing position. At no time on the trip so far had it 
been possible for the enemy to attack us, as we were always out of range, except from 
aeroplanes. But now it was different. Three miles more toward the front would bring 
us into a position where the Germans could shell us. The Germans were now about 
9 miles from us, in a town called Fismes. We decided to move up two of our four guns 
the first night. Just after dark they started out. It proved to be a disastrous night. 
About four miles out they got caught in a jam on the road, and just then the Germans 
started shelling. Two of our men were killed, three injured and three horses killed. 
They finally got the guns out and in position, and at dawn the drivers got back with 
the remaining horses. We knew by their haggard faces when they came in that some- 
thing was wrong, but it was a pretty heavy blow. The next night the other two guns 
had to go out. I was in charge of one of these. We started out after dark, and when 
we got near the section of road that was subject to shelling, we sat tight and galloped 
the horses at top '.peed. The Germans were shelling, but we went through so fast we 
missed 'em all, and came through without a mark. It was full of excitement, however. 
At the position, our guns were set up and carefully camouflaged. It was 11 p. m. 
Pitch dark. All around lis American artillery in action and German shells would 
whistle overhead and break — rometimes near, sometimes far. You can hear an artil- 
lery shell as it whistles through the air, and you can get so accustomed to the sound 
that you can tell in a short time just about where it will hit. As dugouts (little holes 
about 4 feet deep) are always dug beside the guns, it is an easy matter to hop into one. 
Once in these, you are practically safe. If no dugout is around, you can throw your- 
self flat on the ground, which is almost as good, as the shells generally burst upwards. 

After one week, they decided to send out two pirate guns. These guns go to ad- 
vanced positions where they are better able to shoot. I had charge of one of these. It 
was excitement enough for a lifetime. We were situated in a little patch of woods on 
a hill, and the Germans shelled us almost continually. On the second night they sent 
over a heavy barrage, which killed one may on my gun crew, injured my gunner so 
badly he was sent back to the States, gassed a man on the other crew so badly he was 
sent back also and gassed the man in charge of the other gun so he was laid up for a 
month. We were there a week. On Saturday afternoon (the last day) at 2:30, the 


Germans, who evidently knew we were there through aeroplane observation, started out 
to destroy us with heavy shell. For an hour they shelled us heavily. Experience had 
taught us that substantial dug-outs were needed here. Three of us were in a typical 
one, 6 feet deep, 6 feet long, and 2 feet wide. The top was covered with logs 6 feet 
in diameter, and a foot of earth was packed on top. We could hear the shells strike 
all around and hear the steel fragments whistle through the air. On^ tremendous ex- 
plosion right beside us rocked our dug-out and sent a shower of dirt and stones on the 
roof. When it was over, we all crawled out, luckily nobody hurt, but both guns were 
put out of order. And right beside our dug-out, so close that we could have stood in 
our dug-out and touched it with our hands, was a shell hole 6 feet deep and 6 feet in 
diameter at the top Had this shell struck 3 feet nearer we all three would have been 
blown to bits. Came back with the broken guns that night. A German aviator came 
flying low and bombed us. We got back to the main gun position O. K. Stayed there 
about one month more, and then having dislodged the Germans, we went up about five 
or six miles. Fismes had been captured by our infantry. 

In the next letter, I will give you our work in the Argonne Forest and on the last 
drive to Sedan. Yours truly, V. E. 

* * * •$• * 


Dear Paris, France 

Just three weeks ago today we sailed from New York on board La Lorraine, bound 
for Bordeaux. The party was composed of five secretaries and five priests. The ocean 
was so calm that I said Mass every morning, with one exception. After a nine-day 
run, we landed at Bordeaux, November 19, and after a short rest proceeded to our 
destination, Rue de la Madeleine, Paris. Here I found Fr. Philippe awaiting his orders 
— he had been waiting two weeks, and then he is still waiting. My travel permit came 
yesterday, and I have been assigned to Croix d'Hius — a naval radio station, 16 kilo- 
meters outside Bordeaux. Owing to war conditions, it is very difficult to move in 
France. One cannot move from one town to another without a permit. This permit 
must be stamped by the military provost marshal of the town you are leaving, and 
submitted to the provost marshal of the town to which you are going. A complete 
record is kept of every traveler — civilian or military. This permit comes from military 
headquarters, and it takes ten days to secure it. This was the reason of my twelve 
days' stay in Paris. You can well imagine that I do regret the delay. 1 was walking 
down the Rue Malesherbes on my first day in Paris, when a French officer came up to 
me, and in broken PJnglish asked me if I would mind walking with him, as he liked to 
talk English, and he would like to show an American the beautiful city of Paris. He 
comes for me every afternoon, and we go and visit the places of interest together. The 
Place de la Concorde is filled with captured German guns — four or five hundred of 
them. To the east of the la Concorde is the Garden of the Tuilleries, where there are 
many German airplanes of all kinds — wrecked Zeppelins, and hundreds of machine guns, 
and ilterally thousands of German helmets. I spent a long time in the Incalides and 
other interesting objects. I saw Guynemers' airplane, which is preserved and always 
krpt covered with fresh flowers. I know Notre Dame well, and I say Mass every morn- 
ing in the Madeleine. Last Sunday and this Sunday I said the parochial Mass, and gave 
hundreds of communions. Last Sunday, at Montmartre, I saw one of the most impres- 
sive sights the world has ever seen. The occasion was the Te Deum for victory. Car- 
dinal Amette presided. In the body of that huge edifice there were gathered seven thou- 


sand men — men only were admitted — for the most part soldiers, and about half of them 
crippled — many with arms in slings and heads bandaged. It was most touching. But 
what brought the tears to my eyes was to hear those seven thousand men singing with 
full throat the Magnificat and the Credo. It was astonishing to discover that all those 
men knew the Latin words, and sang them without a moment of hesitation. They 
seemed to put great stress on the words "Deposuit potentes de sede" — so much that 
the preacher — an eloquent Dominican, Fr. Gallier — remarked upon it, and took those 
words for his text. After the sermon, the Cardinal read a most beautiful act of con- 
secration, and at the end of it all that vast throng shouted out as loud as they could — 
"ainsi soit il, ainsi soit il, ainsi soit il" — three times. Then followed the glorious Te 
Deum. Every man had a printed copy of the words, and they sang with their whole 
might, organ and orchestra accompaniment. 

On Thanksgiving Day, November 28, there was a victory celebration at the Made- 
leine for English and Americans. Cardinal Bourne preached, and Cardinals Amette 
and Lucon of Rheims, and twelve bishops were in the sanctuary. 

Yesterday we witnessed the reception by the people of Paris of His Majesty, 
George V, and his two sons, the Prince of Wales and Prince Albert. Marshal Foch was 
in town, but late at night, and the people did not have a chance to see him. I was 
more interested in watching the French soldiers from Verdun — who were a guard of 
bono: to the king, than I was in the king and princes. Poincare and Clemenceau both 
took off their hats to me. 

We then went to the convent on Rue Picpus. LaFayette's tomb is in the grave- 
yard of this same convent. 

People in America have no idea of what the French people have endured for four 
and a half years, and are still enduring, in the way of privations. Every article of food 
is measured out most exactly. One pound of sugar per family per month. Impossible 
to procur beread without a bread ticket. Even the Americans (civilians) have to carry 
these tickets. Prices are very high. I am in the same room with another priest, and 
we have to pay eighteen francs each per day. One cannot live in Paris on less than 
$5 a day. On Thanksgiving Day I was assigned to preach at Chalons-sur-Marne, but 
the movement order could not be obtained in time, so I lost my chance to visit the bat- 
tlefields. There are many American soldiers in Paris, but so far I have not seen any 
of our boys — perhaps I shall meet them in Bordeaux, where they are embarking for 
home. The French people are deeply grateful to America, and freely and frankly say 
that America saved France from the hatred enemy. "Vive 1' Amerique!" is heard 
everywhere. Our soldiers are honored everywhere they go, and nothing is too good 
for them. It will be near Christmas when you get this letter. My thoughts will be with 
you then, as they are every day, and I shall pray to the Infant Jesus to bless old Spring 
Hill and every member of its community. 

Up to date I have received no letter from the United States, but I am sure you 
have two or three on the way. Yours sincerely, 



A. J. CROCI, A.B. '23 

Jan. 3 — Return. 

6 — Rev. Fr. Kearns made President of Spring Hill College. 
14 — Colonel Lang visits S. H. C. 

I.* i* 

Feb. 1— S. H. C. vs. Tulane (Basketball). 
3 — Second term begins. 

8 — Mr. Flaherty, Supreme Grand Knight of K. C, visits S. H. C. 
16 — Archbishop Shaw visits S. H. C. 
19 — Field Day in Junior Division. 
20 — Annual retreat commences. 
23 — Closing ceremonies of retreat. 

Mar. 1 — Exhibition by Second Year High. 

2 — Lieutenant Ratterman visits S. H. C. on bis return from Germany. 

4 — Whole holiday. Novena of Grace begins. 

5 — Ash Wednesday. 

9 — College nine play Naval Inspectors on College diamond. 
16 — College nine vs. All Stars on College diamond. 
17— Half holiday in honor of St. Patrick. 
19 — St. Joseph's Day. Solemn High Mass. Whole holiday. 
22 — Junior nine vs. Barton on Junior diamond. 
23 — College nine vs. Thoss on College diamond. 
29 — Exhibition by First Year High. 

P. M. — Junior nine vs. Wrights on Junior diamond. 
30 — College nine vs. Moshico on College diamond. 


April 2 — First Wednesday of the month. Usual Mobile privilege. 
6 — A. M. — Senator Underwood visits S. H. C. 

P. M. — College nine vs. All-Stars on College diamond. 
9 — Colonel Mitchell, Government attache, inspects S. H. C. unit. 
College nine vs. Alabama Medical College on College diamond. 
10 — Junior nine vs. Citronelle on Junior diamond. 
13 — A. M. — Junior nine vs. First National Bank on Junior diamond. 
P. M. — College nine vs. Mobile Southern League at Monroe Park. 


A. J. CROCI, A.B. '23 

On January 3, the boys returned to the college, after 
RETURN a two weeks' Christmas vacation. The following few 

days things looked somewhat dull, as was to be expect- 
ed. However, it did not take the boys long to realize that the whirl of 
festivities had ended, and that they had to get down to hard study for the 
mid-year examinations. 

On February 19, for the first time in the past three 

FIELD DAY years, a field day was held in the high school division. 

There was not a boy in the division who did not take 

part in some, if not all, of the contests. The day was enjoyed by all. The 

Springhillian wishes to express its great thanks to all the merchants of 

Mobile who contributed premiums for the success of the day. 

True to their motto, "Over the Top," the class of the 
EXHIBITIONS third high, for two hours entertained the audience with 

their clever dissertations, elocution and musical skill. 
As a foreword, Jack Thompson explained the meaning of the motto — 
showing how it had been the slogan of our President and Country in the 
Liberty Loan drives — the battle cry of our heroes across the sea; and, 
finally how, animated with this ideal, our boys on the battlefield, backed by 
those at home, had brought peace to the world and safety to civilization. 
He concluded: "With this tessera as our guiding star, the class of Third 
High is determined to climb the steep mountain of knowledge and then go 
'Over the Top.' " Robert Simpson's brief outline of Roman history during 
the time of Caesar, his interpretation of the text, as well as the way he 
handled the difficulties proposed by members of the faculty, showed a clear 
understanding of the matter and a mastery of Latin seldom attained by 
boys of this grade. In mentioning George Sabatier, we can only say that 
he showed uncommon proficiency. For twenty minutes he discoursed, in 
Latin, on the expedition of Cyrus, translated Greek passages into Latin and 
English and answered every question proposed by members of the faculty. 
After a brief exposition of the scope of the Idylls of the King, by John 
McHugh, Albert Henry and Edward Berry took up the individual characters 
of Gareth and Lynette, and Lancelot and Elaine. They demonstrated how 
these stories answered the requisites of a Narration and Description. The 
theory of cube root was explained by Julian Guerra; the declamations by 


A. Burguieres and Frank Hyronemus were real treats. Musical talent was 
displayed in the several selections rendered by the High School Orchestra 
and Band, the piano solo by Albert Henry, and "Christmas Bells" by the 
class Glee. The exhibition throughout was a manifestation of masterly 
talent and excellent training. Third Year High can deservedly feel proud 
for by unanimous consent of all present, the display of talent was far "Over 
the Top." J*,* 

Class colors : The colors that led our boys to victory. 

On Saturday, March the first, the second year of high school gave evi- 
dent proof of their progress during the year. For over an hour they stood 
before the rapid fire questioning by Rev. Fr. Vice-President in the Latin 
and English authors. Aaron Hahn then upheld the honors of the class in 
elocution, when he spoke Carrol's Jabberwocky from Alice in Wonderland. 
The orchestra and band played their pieces excellently. In conclusion, Rev. 
Fr. President praised the work of the class, and expressed the hope that 
they would always live up their motto: "Genius, that gift that dazzles 
mortal eyes, is oft but perseverence in disguise." 

Ihe exhibition rendered on March 29 by the first year of High School 
showed a remarkable progress in Latin for a class of beginners. Under 
the questioning of the Rev. Fr. Vice-President, a contest was staged in 
Latin parsing, John Hughes being the winner. The explanation of Long- 
fellow's "Evangeline," by Neil Simon, was well delivered. A song by R. 
Courtney was enjoyed by all. He was accompanied by D. J. O'Rourke on 
the piano. 

On February 9, Mr. Flaherty, the Supreme Grand 

MR. FLAHERTY Knight of the Knights of Columbus, while on a tour of 

VISITS S. H. c. the Southern cities, paid Spring Hill College a visit. He 

was warmly received by the faculty and students, and 

his little talk on the work of the K. of C. "Over There" and "Over 

Here" was greeted with loud applause. We were only sorry that he 

could not remain with us longer. Mr. Flaherty spoke as follows: 

"Right Rev. Fathers and Boy?: I certainly esteem it a great honor, as I 
feel it a great pleasure to come here today to this great institution not to make 
an academic discourse, but just to have a little talk with you. 

I am on my way to tell of the great work the K. of C. are doing throughout 
this broad land of ours in this time of war. 

To give your boys some notion, I will give you an object lesson to impress. Men 
are children of larger growth. Object lessons impress better. Examples are more im- 
pressive. No sermon, no matter how well delivered from the pulpit, has the power of 
an exemplary life. The exemplary life is the apostolicity of the laity. The great order 
of the K. of C. is trying to foster and bring this out through the land. I am the father 
of a big family. I have quite a little one at home, too. I left my home in Philadelphia, 


the Cradle of Liberty, where the Liberty Bell was cracked; where the Declaration of In- 
dependence was signed; where, in the Catholic churchyard of St, Mary's, near where I 
was born, rests the body of Commodore Jack Barry, the father of the American Navy. 
Alongside of him lies one whose brother at that time was the Bishop of Cork Ireland. 
And Thomas Fitzsimmons, the great financier of the revolution, and just nearby Meade, 
the great hero of Gettysburg. All in that one spot in that city of Philadelphia, and 
they tell us that we are not loyal, not good Americans! 

If I started out to visit all the councils of this order and were to visit a council 
every night month after month, year after year, for four years and a half, there would 
still be some councils unvisited by me, so you see what a vast big organization this is. 
It has councils in every city in the United States, in Alaska, Philippine Islands, etc., 
and is growing apace. It has a membership today in all these places I have visited of 
436,000 Catholic gentlemen. We are going to increase that number to one million 
Catholic men at the end of 1919. In order to get this great number we are not going 
to lower the standard of our membership. The K. C. is nothing if not Catholic. Its 
foundatson-stone is Catholicity. We demand that every man that enters is a practical 
Catholic — that is first, and indispensable. 

The man who was the soul of the war, whose military genius surpassed that of 
all the generals in the history of the world by his daring, lives and practices his re- 
ligion, and is a man of Christ. He is seen every day in church, and whenever possible 
receives the body of Christ. I refer to that great man, that great Catholic, the great 
Marshal Foch. 

Give me your attention. In this institution you have the advantage of being edu- 
cated by that great body of Jesuits, the greatest body of men in the world, barring 
none. Boys, you should appreciate in your days the great benefit of their instruction. 

While our boys were on the Mexican border to guard the country from the invasion 
of the prowling Mexicans, 2,500 of the National Guard were Catholics. The K. C. 
went there to do welfare work for the boys. A boy must have amusement. An idle 
brain is the devil's workshop. We put huts in every camp. I see the one here is being 
painted, and hope that it will soon be ready for your use and occupation, and sincerely 
hope you will patronize it. 

When this great war came on, we knew we must do a great work, and we did it. 
We went into the National Guard camps and other places, covering all the encamp- 
ments of the army and navy, and that meant the need of much money. In the big 
drive for 8170,500,000, we raised $52,000,000. We commenced to notice that Catholics 
can do something in the world. We must stand up and ask for what we desire. We 
shall no longer play the second fiddle. That day is past. This is due to the work of 
the K. C. In the United States I understand under the Constitution that a man is free 
to serve God according to his conscience. We demand that we shall not be discrimi- 
nated because we are Catholic. Stand up, defend and assert our rights, and demand our 
rights, and we are going to get them. Catholics are going to get their rights, and the 
K. C. are going to fight for it. 

While I listened to the orchestra it brought before me this: The man who hath 
not music in his soul is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils. The motions of his 
spirit are as dark as night, etc. Therefore, it is a good thing that you have me here. 

The K. C. have done a great deal for the boys here and overseas. They have done 
much to make it pleasant and agreeable for them. Cigarettes, etc., everything in abun- 
dance, especially right up to the front line trench. We sent bats and balls, etc., hundreds 


of dollars of baseball material, and we sent that great star of the diamond, John Evers. 
He went over there and taught the French how to throw a hand grenade. They for- 
merly threw it 25 feet, but after getting the correct movement, they threw it 125 yards. 
While an automobile load of baseball supplies was being carried to the front, it encoun- 
tered some soldiers who had just been under fire and were gloomy and sad. It struck 
something in the road, and the balls, bats, etc., were scattered about, and in two min- 
utes' time every mother's son of them snatched the balls, etc., had a game of baseball, 
and forgot their troubles. That is to show how important those things are. It is won- 
derful what a piece of chocolate candy can do. Soldier boys risk their life for it. The 
cigarette proved a great stimulant. Those who were wounded and unable to light their 
cigarette were helped by their comrades. I hope you boys are not at it yet. We sent 
tons and tons and tons of cigarettes, tobacco, pipes and matches to the boys. 

During our convention, this great man whom you know, Marshal Foch, was ele- 
vated to that post of Field Marshal. We sent him our congratulations and 10,000 francs. 
He sent a very generous reply. Now, that was in August. You remember if you have 
followed in some measure the principal events of this war, when General Pershing, our 
great commander, was directed to make the attack towards Metz. You can imagine, 
boys, how busy and occupied Marshal Foch was, and he stopped at that time in the 
midst of his work to remember his K. C, and he sent this dispatch: 

"Lafayette left Metz to aid your country in the revolution, and your 
glorious banner wlil soon be floating in Metz." 

Prophetic words. 

One of our secretaries brought cigarettes to men in the front line trenches in this 
manner: He got an aeroplane, loaded it with cigarettes, went over the firing line and 
dropped 30,000 cigarettes, with the compliments of the K. C. 

Now, perhaps we do not enjoy the benefit of the publicity that other organizations 
do, but we will reap the reward when our boys come home and tell their story. A great 
number of K. C. Chaplains went over. Within a few months after their arrival they 
were in the fighting line. Three of the K. C. Chaplains went over the top with the 
boys. We know that in the hour of danger the priest has no fear. Plague, pestilence, 
danger of any kind in the trenches and the flying death of No Man's land does not 
prevent him from doing his duty. Our non-Catholics friends cannot understand it. 

He made mention of the number of Catholic soldiers at Camps Gordon, Evans, 
Shelby and others. How they attended in great number the masses said in the K. C. 
huts. Of a colonel's refusal to permit, owing to a quarantine, the attendance at mass 
of the soldiers at Camp Evans. How the Chaplain obtained permission from higher 
authority. Mass was said, and a large number of boys were present. The Colonel took 
offense. He later called on the priest, learned of the true faith, and was converted. 

Mr. Flaherty also told how a great number of boys attended midnight 
mass in a camp, Madame Schumann-Heink singing the Adeles Fideles. 
Many received Holy Communion. The orator ended by admonishing the 
students that, when they go out in the world to make their way, that they 
do their duty by Church and State. 


On Jan. 6 announcement was made to us that Rev. Fr. 

CHANGE OF Cummings' term as president had just expired, and 

PRESIDENT that Rev. Fr. Kearns had been elected to fill his chair 

as president of the college. Father Cummings left to 

take charge of Loyola University, and Father Kearns immediately took 

up office. 

On Feb. 9 the second session of the Yenni Literary So- 

YENNI LITERARY ciety opened with an election of officers. The follow- 

SOCIETY ing were elected: President. A. J. Croci; Secretary, G. 

Baquie; Censor. J. Thompson. Although the Society 

has missed many of its meetings, owing to the light trouble, it is showing 

great progress in Elocution and in English writing. 

SODALITY OF The work of the Sodality has been silently but steadily 
BLESSED VIRGIN progressing. A large number of postulants have been 
admitted recently. The Sodality will hold its solemn 
reception on May 1. in the College Chapel. 

ARCHBISH. SHAW On February 16. Spring Hill College was honored with 
VISITS S. H. C. the visit of Archbishop Shaw of New Orleans. Located 
formerly in Mobile, he was welcomed by many friends. 
During his visit he addressed the faculty and students, and spoke in glow- 
ing words of the work of Alabama troops at the front, and exhorted all to 
avail themselves of the advantages they were enjoying at Spring Hill. 

On March 9, ten candidates from Spring Hill under- 
K. OF C. went the initiation of the K. of C. in Mobile. The class 

INITIATION of Spring Hill, together with the other Knights, attend- 
ed mass at the Cathedral celebrated by His Lordship, 
the Bishop. The initiation started immediately after mass, and lasted until 
sate in the evening. It was a tired bunch that returned that night, but 
as usual ten new enthusiastic Knights were added to the roll of that organ- 
ization of world renown. 

ST. BERCHMANN'S During the past month the Society had the pleasure 
SANCTUARY of being addressed by the Very Fev. Fr. E. Mattern, 
SOCIETY S.J., the Provincial. They are continuing to hold their 

regular monthly meetings, and a large number have 
been admitted recently. They are at present busy preparing for the cere- 
monies of Holy Week. 


On April 6, Senator Underwood, while on a trip to Mo- 
sen. underwood bile, visited Spring Hill College. Being a man of few 

VISITS S. H. C. leisure hours, his visit was short. The College Band 
and Orchestra gave an informal concert in his honor. 
When the music was over, the Senator addressed a few words to the Fac- 
ulty and Students gathered in the K. C. Hut, saying: 

I thank you very much for the opportunity of being here with you today. It is a 
great thing for a public man to have the opportunity to give his thoughts to young men 
"who are growing up to be the soldiers of this nation in the future. 

Not many years from now, men of my time shall pass away, and our places must be 
filled from the replacement division. You are the replacement division of the future. 
You are filling the ranks for the good of the nation in years to come, and you have 
reached the time when you are old enough to realize fully the responsibilities of the 
future, and to prepare for your call. It may be in the church, it may be in commerce, 
it may bo on the farm. Wherever you take your place, you are a soldier fighting the 
battle for the good of our country. Whether you stand on the side of right, justice and 
and civilization, or whether you stand on the side of ruin and iniquity, is a question for 
you to decide. The course you take will be the one you will most likely follow through 

We won a great war. The battle of the nations is over, but possibly the battle of 
civilization is just begun. Picture the difference between the savage and civilized man. 
You know the civilization of education. You have had opportunity sometimes to rea- 
lize the difference. Civilization means high morals and high ideals. Civilization is 
endangered through the scum of the evil of the universe. You must maintain the one 
or fall with the other. The great problem is to maintain our civilization in all its in- 
tegrity, and I want to say that the church has always been the mainstay of the civili- 
zation of the world. I want to say, too, and to ask you young men, you need to bear 
this in mind: that there are two great causes that stand for the civilization of the 
world — the real civilization of the world: One is the preserving of the integrity of the 
home life of the nation; the other is the protection of property. Destroy those two 
great columns, and the dome of civilization will founder in the mire of degredation. 
Remember, now, the integrity of the home life and the protection of your neighbor's 
property must go hand-in-hand, because if you destroy the home life, you go back to 
the life of the savage; destroy protection of property and there is no incentive for man 
«o move onward, to work and acquire homes for the children, and the unborn children 
.vet to come. 

Now, to fight for property; to fight for the civilization of the world, you must 
have discipline; you must know how to obey orders. No man can ever command rank 
who has not served in the ranks himself. No man can give orders if he does not know 
how to take them. 

In the next decade you will be in the battle of life, the real battle. I can look back 
on a decade. I have two boys. They are youngsters, and were educated in a school in 
North Carolina. One, ten years ago, was not much larger than the one who stood on 
the drill ground today and sounded his trumpet for assembly for drill. I never ex- 
pected him to be a military man. He went to the Mexican border. He led his division 
through the great battle of Champagne. Now, he did not tell me this story. An officer 
of the Rainbow Division, who had been in the battle of Champagne, told me this in 



Washington. The battle was fought on the loth of July. The only American division 
m this battle was under the command of General Garonne. He wanted an officer who 
could speak English and French to hold the line of communication, and they selected 
this little trumpeter of mine, who was then a captain, to take the orders from head- 
quarters and send them to the front lines, then convey them back. During the battle, 
the little house in which he was stationed rocked from the terrible fire; but the little 
captain held his place for forty-eight hours. It was the last drive of the great Ger- 
man machine. 

So, my boys, you cannot tell what ten years holds for you. Whether it be the 
battle of civilization on the fields of civil life, who knows but one of you boys may be 
the boy to hold the battle line within the next decade. 

Now, I want to say one word more to you boys: I remember at the time of the 
Spanish war, a story was written that was called "The Message to Garcia." As it was 
written twenty years ago, you never read the story. The story went this way: I was 
a young man in Congress. I remember Mr. McKinley, and remember the instance. The 
story is true. The Cubans were trying to throw off the Spanish yoke. Mr. McKinley 
of the United States wanted to communicate with Garcia. He called a young man who 
afterward became a colonel and admiral. The young fellow was a lieutenant. He said 
to him: "Here is the message; take it to General Garcia." That is all that he said. 

The lieutenant saluted and carried the message to Garcia. The story is this: Just 
how to reach Garcia, no one knew. The messenger did not say, "Mr. President, where 
is Garcia?" He did not say, "Mr. President, how am I going to get past the Spanish 
gunboats or through the Spanish army ? How shall I keep from being captured and 
get the message to Garcia?" No, he saluted his commander-in-chief and carried the 
message through. Now, that carries the story of life to everyone. 

There are lots and lots of men in this world who can do a thing if they are told 
how to do it. The captains of industry and commerce are looking for men not only 
to give orders, but for good men to carry them out. A man must not be always guided 
in a thing he has to do; he must learn to use his head and act on his own initiative, 
and carry the message to Garcia. Find out for yourself. That's what makes the man. 

Learn to act on your own initiative. The captains of industry are looking for such 
boys, and as I look about the room, I see that it is full of such boys. 



Mahoney (umpire) — Strike one! 
Alexis — Whada you talking about? 
Mahoney — You — strike two ! 
Alexis — Are you blind? 

Mahoney — No ; but as a hitter, you are as blind as a bat. Strike three ! 
Dismissed ! 

Alexis — I'll come out there and pulverize you ! 
Mahoney — Not now, your team needs you. 

Lawler (to Mahorner, on seeing a Chaplain) — Look, Mat, there's a 
soldier from Foch's army! 

Mahorner — Say, ignorance, don't you know a guillotine when you see 

(Editor's Insert — We will give a suitable reward to anyone that will 
discover what he was trying to say). 

Speaking of celebrated comebacks, what about the swinging door after 
'July 1st? 

Bells and Belles 

Crane — Funeral bells. 
Robby — Merry bells. 
Keller— Ditto. 
D. Curren — Wedding bells. 
Wright — Cow bells. 

Crane — This deal of moving the clock up is a wonderful saving decice. 

Keller — Yes ; but when we go to bed so early, I miss seeing the moon 
every night. 

Crane — Well, whaddayou kicking about? You see plenty of it in the 

Commandant — Corporal Skinner, halt your squad! 
Skinner (homesick) — Whoa! You critturs — whoa! 

Teacher — Casey, define the meaning of the word "pungent." 
Casey — It means something with a kick in it, you know; like a drink 
of Manhattan. 


Robby is now a commissioned officer — captain of the infant (ry), 

WANTED — Something to close Rodrigues' mouth. 
To make Ratterman larger. 
To stop Castagnos and Rice from giving calisthenics at 

the convent. 
To bring John Fabacher down in time for reveille. 
To keep Healy away from spiritualism. 
To keep Dick Inge in the yard. 

Most people's fortunes are in their faces, but Mahoney's is in his ear. 

Sounds Bad 

Curren, Gannon, D'Antoni, Mahorner — No; it's not an A. W. 0. L. 
report. Just the mail from Dauphin Way. 

Bad Shot 

Prof. — Fabacher, did you throw the paper in the basket? 
Fabacher — No, sir; I missed it. 

Sad But True 

Reed — Dan's been gambling again. The boy lost his head. 
Robby — Weil, he always plays for small stakes. 

Eddie — Isabel, how would you like to have a pet monkey? 
Isabel — Oh, Eddie, this is so sudden! 


Prof. — What became of the swine that had evil spirits cast out of 
them ? 

Skinner — Oh, they were turned into deviled ham. 

(With Apologies to Brainless Bates) 
Tomeny received first prize at the High School meet for being the 
biggest cheese. 

Reynaud has become real witty. Here's his latest: 

Inge — It is a splendid day, isn't it? 

Reynaud— Is it? (Loud laughter from the bystanders). 


Robert Edison Gianelloni has discovered a new process of vulcanizing 
rubber plants. 

Due to the shortage of fat, Tumminello has willed his head to the gov- 
ernment to relieve the situation. The other 7 per cent will be buried with 
due honors. 

Robby got a hit — 

It was a dreadful slam, 
The pitcher threw a fit, 

And softly muttered gracious! 

% $ $ 

Each time he hits the ball 
His average he does swell, 

At present it is small, 

It really looks like the dickens ! 

After the K. C. Meeting 

Matt — What are you running for, Tom? 
Tom — Here comes the dogs, and I can't fly. 

Prof. — Flat drawing is good, but you don't seem to know how to make 
a Venetian blind. 

Faherty — Yes, I do ; stick your finger in his eye. 

Dentist — Will you have gas ? 

Dan — Tell him "yes," Sally, don't let him fool around you in the dark. 

Beggar — Please, sir, I've lost my leg. 
Vickers (passing on) — Well, I haven't got it. 

Dennis (returning from fire, bumped into a post) — No use — no use — 
lost in an impenetrable forest. 

Professor — Reed, do you ever attend a place of worship? 
Reed — Regularly, every Sunday. I'm on my way to see her now. 

Bill Curren wants to know who polishes the gold fish. 

The coach recently entertained his "bunkie" at the college. Lime 
Cola was the beverage. Har ! Har ! 


Lieutenant Braund and Mr. Richard Ducote received the Order of the 
Double Cross on April 1. 

Dennis is quite a linguist. He is especially fond of Scotch. 

Bogue— I have been troubled very much the past few nights with in- 


Murray — I haven't got one in my bed. 

Rodrigue — How much do you weigh ? 

Cassidy — I don't know. I haven't had a bath since I came here. 

Joe Kopecky has not gone hunting recently. The last one he found he 
gave to the canary. 

Bienvenu — I'm going traveling in the summer for my liver. 
Walet — Why, liver? Don't you like the way they cook it here? 

I Wonder Why? 

Willard got his picture taken? 

Mahoney likes them so young ? 

The coach walked all the way to the car line ? 

Eggs are scarce on the farm? 

The D'Antonis are never on time? 

Vinegar looks like CocaCola? 

Anderson isn't a good ball player ? 

Williams and Mathis think so much of each other? 

Emmy Lou writes such long letters to Pat ? 

Toups is so lazy ? 

McEvoy has so many freckles? 

Hartwell likes to go walking on Sunday? 

Prof. Barre thought the K. C. initiation was so funny? 

I wonder! 

All the reports about Southern chivalry are unfounded. I have seen 
Casey struck several times by his companions. 

Simpson (to Castagnos, in town) — Look, Ed, there's a soldier with 
four stripes! 

Castagnos — That's nothing, Simp; we're supposed to wear them all 


M. BURKE, A.B. '23 

The flu came and went, and close on its tracks came 
A NEW another malady known as "runawayitis." The little 

DISEASE yard has had some eight cases up to date, with two 

casualties. As far as has been observed, the symp- 
toms of the disease are as follows: The head becomes sore, very sore, 
quickly affecting the brain of the patient. In most cases a form of mono- 
mania sets in, making the patient believe he is an unappreciated hero. Some 
were so far gone that they mistook Selma for Montgomery. The disease is 
of short duration, and its only bad effect is acute hunger. The convales- 
cents say they experience difficulty in sitting down for a few days after 
the crisis has passed. We regret to say that one of the boys, after being 
cured, had a relapse which took him off. 

"Travels In the State of Alabama" — Oldham. 
NEW BOOKS "Chemistry; Old, and Especially New"— Burguieres. 
RECEIVED "Shaving ; When, Where and How"— O'Shee. 

"Cloudbursts"— May. 
"The Art of Growing Sideways" — Acereto. 
"Life and Works of Oldham" — Reynaud. 
"How To Get Home Runs" — Semmes. 

Raphael says next year he may make catcher on the first team if 
there are not too many other catchers. He's very modest. We think he'll 
make first catcher easily — if there are no pitchers! 

Burke says he never would have been caught, only the shoe he threw 
hit Bogue on the head and started echoes flying. Bogue makes the same 
charge against Burke. A case of mutual agreement. 

Officer — Column, half right, march ! 

Sullivan (trying to walk two ways at once) — Which half, please? 

Visitor — What's all the fun about ? 

Small Boy— Oh, that's only Dan Hardie trying to run police duty. 

Jess Willard was the White Hope, but the Junior Yard 
THE RED HOPE lays claim to producing the Red Hope. This boy will 
fight anything rational or irrational, and may be in- 
duced to fight by small remarks, such as "It looks like rain." Anyone seek- 


ing information, need only consult one of the Red Hope's victims, Hattie 
Morgan, Warhorse Putman, Mule Foster, Monk Gilmore or Little Bolivar. 

Shanahan says they all play ball where he comes from, only most of 
the diamonds up his way have left field nearer first base. 

THANKS! The boys of the little yard wish to use The Springhillian 

in thanking publicly all those who sacrifice their rec- 
reations in order to prop up our weak fence. 

Professor — Major, are you sick? You are not fooling today? 
Major — The V.-P. broke my bad habits last night. 
Motto — Bad habits should not be carried in hip pockets. 

V. P. (severely) — You are reported, Dempsey, for having your feet 
on the table. 

Dempsey — Well, Father, Putman had his on the floor, and I had to 
put mine somewhere, didn't I ? 

ACCIDENT! Poor little Hogan was up on a ladder cleaning his rifle. 
A mean boy pushed him and he fell down the barrel. 
Berthier happened to be near, and, reaching down the barrel, pulled out 
little "Red." 

MISSING— Privates Glynn, Willard and Theriot. Last 
CASUALTY seen going "over the top" in the southeast corner of 
LIST the yard. 

SLIGHTLY WOUNDED— Privates Schwegmann 
and Provosty. Chewed on the head by a squirrel, which got loose in the 
dormitory. (Intelligent animal) . 

SEVERELY WOUNDED— Privates Bowles and Reynaud. Sent from 
class to reconnoitre the V.-P.'s office, and they did ! 

DEAD (from shoulders up) — Private Bogue. Met his fate in heroically 
endeavoring to steal second with the bases full. 

CITED FOR BRAVERY— Private McKinnon. Bombed a commanding 
officer during the last retreat. 

Professor — How many Carolinas are there? 

Gregan — North Carolina, South Carolina, and Mahorner's Carolina. 


Risser wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. 
CAMOUFLAGE Stapleton carrying books. 

Landry in a baseball uniform. 
Bowies with a wide-awake look. 
Roth without Oldham. 
Blake with a hair-cut. 
Keane looking wise. 

The Little Yard Debating Society has announced a tri- 
DEBATE angular debate for April 25. In Junior Library: "Re- 

solved, That New Roads is a greater city than Augus- 
ta." In K. C. Hut: "Resolved, That Augusta has it on Miami. "In southeast 
corner of yard: "Resolved, That Miami can't came up to New Roads." 
Rabbit Hebert and Yearache Major will represent New Roads against the 
Shenanigan kids, G. and H. Mulherin of Augusta, in the first contest. Gus 
Tobin and Harry Cashin (if Gus leaves him any time to speak) will uphold 
Augusta in the second contest. Jeff Provosty and Mutt Berthier will up- 
hold New Roads in the third contest; while McKinnon and Hardie claim 
they can stand at second base and talk so loud that they can represent 
Miami in both contests, and in any others that happen to be going on at 
the same time. We congratulate the management on getting such close 
questions for debate, and we are sure the Augusta boys have a hard task 
before them, since Miami recently got electric lights and New Roads hired 
a policeman to help out on Sundays. We regret that last month's debate 
proved a failure. The question was: "Resolved, That there is one only 
Mobile," and even the opposition couldn't deny it. 

There was a young lad named McKean, 
Who never did anything mean 

Till he stepped in the way 

Of a bender one day, 
And shattered the ball on his bean. 

There once was a youngster named Flynn, 
Who was almost as big as a pin — 

He took off the top 

From a bottle of pop, 
And, losing his balance, fell in ! 

The boy stood on the burning deck — 

He certainly was brave ; 
But we've got one who equals him — 

O'Shee just took a shave! 


The boy stood on the burning deck, 
As brave as any yeoman; 

No wonder, for he watched a show 
Performed by Bullet Bowman. 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 
His feet were full of toes. 

He stood there just a-wondering 
Why Hogan never grows. 

Perhaps our jokes you do not like, 
But that won't make us weep; 
You were a simp to read them all, 
So please go back to sleep. 

Dear Buddy — You no I am at Spring Hill in the litle 

BY CENSOR yard and it sure is a grate place. Mamma thort I would 

HELD BACK be homesick but I aint because I can play all kinds of 

games sometimes wen it don't rain. There's one good 
thing heer, you always see somethin funny to laff at like 1st lutenants and 
top sargents and the electrick lites go out and they send us to bed and that's 
fine. I got awful scaired the first day I came. Nobody was sayin nothin 
but they was all taikin with their hands like dagoes or somethin and you'd 
get scaired to if you saw Detline and Hartwell makin funny moshuns with 
thare hands and faces and no sounds comin out of his mouth. I thort 
maybe this was a crazy house and I went up to a boy called Landry who 
noes a lot and ast him if this was a nutt factery and he sed yes and I sed 
are you a nut and he got mad. I found out since that he is. But it was a 
retreet going on wen the kids cant speak. Sumtimes me and a boy named 
Roth and Rayno go for a walk in the woods and 1 day we saw a prefeck and 
Roth and Rayno didn't like him becorse they hid in some bushes till he 
was gone. We sure got some good acters in the 4th year high. There is 
Hattie Morgan who looks like Doug Farebanks except his face, and Bullet 
Bov/man and Mahorner and Schwegmann who the boys call the Golddust 
Twinns. A boy named Simson told me 3rd high was the smartest class in 
the college and I didn't believe it so I ask Berry and Sulivan and Ransford 
& they sed yes so I guess its rite. We had a holliday for St. Patrick & us 
Irrish boys sure were prowd. We got a boy named Murphy who still got a 
Irrish aksent. I ast a boy for a peace of green to ware and he sed I didn't 
need anny more green. He sure was stingie. Last march I ast to be an 
alter boy and the officer I ast sed no because I had red hare & wen I got 


out on the altar the canddles wouldn't have no show. But that kid thinks 
he's funney so I sed maybe if I was a boanhed or a doll boy or from Mobile 
or sumthin else funny I could get in & he sed if funney kids made good 
alter boys you'd be a bishhop and I sed you look like a stachue of St. Peter 
and Paul & that shut him up. I play ball a lot here. We got a swell dia- 
mond with 3 bases and a home plait, and the pitcher stands in the middle. 
You ort to see us drill. We got a captin called Stark and he'd do good in 
the Salvation Army. Sumtimes we do peleace duty whichis wen an offi- 
cer don't like you he says you were foolin or somethin and then you gotta 
pick up the paper that the pref eck throws around but I always get off be- 
cauze there is a kid named Levert that is an officer & we are good frends 
cause we both come from out in the cuntry. One clay I saw a boy standin 
agenst a fense and I sed what are you doin and he sed sh-h-h-h Im a deteck- 
atiff . Stand near me and don't say nothin an youll see me catch someboddy 
So I stood at a post near him for 2 hrs & dident say nothin but I gess the 
feller he was aftter didnt come because after a while the prefeck made a 
sine to him and he sed its time & he walked away and so did I. Well good 
by. Pleaze send me some good candie cause wenever thare is good candie 
in the store the storekeepers ete it before we can buy it. 

Your little brother JOHN 

DEAR BUDDY — Lots of things happened since the last time I wrote 
to home. The big boys in our yard got U S Guns and they sure look grate. 
Some kids say the U S maid the guns for the Rushins but I dont bleeve it 
cause the guns fit our kids fine & the Rushins wouldent have no show. The 
baseball leeges started. In the little yards we got 5 leeges and part of 
another one. Every holiday each leege plays agenst itself and some of the 
gaims are pretty close like 17-14 and 23-22 were the games my leege plaid 
last week. Im on the 4th leege and its the best one. I diden't maik the 1st 
leege cause there wasnt no uneyform to fitt me and on the other 2 leeges 
its all big boys. My teem is 2 games behind because I didn't play in one 
and I couldnt help losin the other one. A fli came to me and hit me on the 
shoalder and no kid can catch a ball that bounces off his shoalder and that 
lost the game. You ort to see the 1st leege. They got nice uneyforms & 
tbats all and the prefeck give them uneyforms so when people come they 
will see the nice soots an wont notice the boanhed plays. There's a kid on 
the 1st leege that gets lots of hoam runs and I ast him how he did it and 
he sed he'd tell me if he'd give a dime and I gave it to him & this is the 
seecret. (You gotta have a left hand bat and the pitcher dont know it & 
he told me where you can buy lefthand bats & Im goin to get one next 
time I go to Mobeal). Dont tell noboddy the seecret. The White Sox teem 


got a pitcher called Teeder & wen he pitches the catcher has to be a short- 
stop and a outfielder cause all he throws is pickups and balloon balls and 2 
base hits but wen he plays 1 base hes pretty good sometimes wen he stops 
the ball. The best hitter in the yard is Walet and he always takes 3 bases 
on a hit. 

They got a club here called the Akadimy where they learn you to make 
^peaches and learn peaces of ellocution. I ast a boy did I have any chance 
and he sed yes I could get in but you must have a try-out before some of 
the members first. And he fixt everything up and its to be next Friday in 
the billiard Room & I got to right a speach and get up on a billiard table 
and make Jeschures with a cue and he'll get the fellers and I ast him could 
I invite the pref eck and he sed no wait till you no how to do it good & then 
we'll invite him. He sure was kind to me an hes a good feller to the new 
kids & the boys call him Fats. You wanta know what class Im in. Well I 
don't no fer sure. The kids in my class call it Reform school and the kids 
that aint in the class call it cooking Class & the teecher says its a boob class 
but hes foolin. One day I ast the teecher what class I was in & he sed I 
was in a class by myself but I don't see what he means cause there is 5 
other kids & about 10 babies in the room, and the V. p. says the rite name 
is 1st high. We sure learn some good stuff & the best thing we learn is a 
new langwidge just out since the war called Lattin, so you see this schoole 
is shure up to dait. Its fine to speek Lattin cause then you and another kid 
can say what you want and the prefeck can't understan like one day I sed 
to a kid "Nos go ad lakibus" & that meens "lets go to the laik" and the 
prefeck herd us and he thort I was just talkin funny and he laffed and so 
did we and we went out of the yard and noboddy new it. But wen we got 
to the lake it was empty cause it was being cleened and the V. p. and the 
Presseydent was there and they ast us what we was doin and we sed the 
prefeck sent us to look for Dickie Walsh & they laffed an thats all. Well 
good bie. Wright soon an send me some monney to buy a ticket for exhibi- 
shun next week. Your little brother JOHN 

HlqK School 

Field EVeni'S 



The students have ceased to be terrified when they hear the appalling 
sounds that issue from the K. of C. hut each morning. The roars and 
shrieks and thumps and groans are nothing but the Spring Hill Band. 

In the years from now when all of us "will have gone to the dust from 
whence we sprung," the spirits of Hartwell and Feore will haunt the sec- 
ond gallery between the dread hours of 3 and 5 on Sunday afternoons. 

S. D'Antoni knocked a home run in the game against the medical stu- 
dents. Got an accident policy, Sally? 

Oh, Thrilling! 

'Fireman, save my child!" she cried, 
As the waiter served the soup, 

The lightning flashed in the western sky, 
And the onions looped-the-loop. 

The fireman saved her child, 

And never again was seen, 
And Simpson put out the roaring flames 

With a can of kerosene ! 

We imagine that the two brothers from Lucedale are, with regard to 
refectory affairs, great Skinners. (We know that this remark is suicide, 
but we are tired of life, anyway). 

It is rumored that Top Sergeant Matt Rice has been promised two 
dainty pins to fasten his spiral puttees, which seem to be garments with 
a will all their own. 

Among sundry other pitiful examples of those "not quite right" is the 
individual who walks into the pool room at 12:50 P. M. and announces 
his intention of playing pool. 

Just now there is a bitter rivalry between the two D'Antonis in the 
line of music. Personally, we think that one blows as well as the other, 
since only by looking at a timepiece can one identify a call, any way. 

It our worthy chef would but glance into the dining hall after the 
boys have gone, and see John Burke placidly chewing, when all others have 
been repulsed with great slaughter, it would do his soul good. 


John Robinson wishes to express his sincerest thanks to the sender of 
the charming photograph that he was delighted to receive through the 
mails, and appreciated fully the message therein. 

Marion Anderson was registering. The capable young man in charge 
shot the usual questions: "Name?" 

Anderson — Vineg — Marion Hernandez Anderson." 

Clerk — Home ? 

Anderson — Madison, Flawider. 

Clerk — Born ? 

Anderson — Yes. 

Cassidy (to friend) — I say, what's the picture tonight? 
Friend — Fatty Arbuckle, in "Heavy, Heavy, the Fat Boy." 
Cassidy — Don't get personal. 

The other day 

I was shooting pool, 

And a guy (you know him) came in 

And hung around, 

And told me which ball to shoot, 

And when I didn't take his advice, 

And missed, he laughed, 

And laughed, 

And laughed some more — he's got an awful laugh 

Anyway, and when he can't stop, and you miss a crip, 

And stump your toe and drop your cue, 

And then he laughs some more, 

Friends, I ask you, don't murder seem 0. K. ? 

Clarence O'Shee, a little yard product, is said to have exclaimed, at 
first sight of H. Floutt: "Ah, sweet essence of simplicity!" 

Ode to Barber of Bagdad 

To thee, o Gab, tonsorialist supreme, 

We drink this day. 

Thou cuttest hair like Mutt and Jeff — one short, one long. 

Thy clippers carry death and misery in their wake. 

Thou dost release thy victims like unto a billiard ball 

With not one strand to cheer them in their misery. 



Ah ! many the time I've seen thy quarry, when thou hast placed on him 
thy master touch, 

Dash from the Torture Room in Grim Despair, covering, as well he 

The evidences of thy ruthless shears. 

Thy name, o Gab, in history will go down 

As inventor of the checkerboard finish and exponent of the ragged 

And on that last day of reckoning, when all men square their debts, 

Spring Hill students of many years will pounce upon thee, 

And, after they have pulled each wavy strand one by one, 

Then will they douse that shapely dome with Hoyt's cologne, 

And then vengeance would be ours! 

But what, o Gab, if, before thou shufflest off thy mortal coil, 



W. HARTWELL, B.S. '19 

'84 It was with the greatest sorrow that we received the news of the 
death of Dr. Angelo Festorazzi, one of the most prominent physi- 
cians of Mobile. The Springhillian wishes to tender its most heartfelt 
sympathy to his family and numerous friends. The notice of his death 
will be found in the Obituary. 

'85 E. E. Bernheimer, A.B. '85, paid a visit a short time ago to his alma 
mater, which was deeply appreciated by both faculty and boys. Mr. 
Bernheimer is one of the most prominent and representative alumni of 
Spring Hill. His success as a financier is widely known. 

'97 John H. Mock, A.B. 97, a member of the Albany Rotary Club, and 
Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, more generally known in 
his home town as the "Bullionaire" of that body, has been elected to the 
legislature as representative of Dougherty County. 

'00 Leon Gouax, ex-A.B. '00, lately paid his first visit to Spring Hill 
since '97. 

'09 Gilbert LeBaron, A.B. '09, is about to be married, after his return 
from Europe. The Springhillian wishes Gilbert every happiness. 

'14 Ledoux Provosty, A.B. '14, received a commission as second lieuten- 
ant, and later was promoted to the rank of first lieutenant in the 
Coast Artillery. When we last heard from him he was in Angouline. He 
says he will most probably remain overseas for more than a year, and take 
part in the great reconstruction problems that now occupy our army in 

'14 On January 16, Mr. Harrigan, father of Raymond Harrigan, B.S. 
'16, died at New Orleans, and was buried in Mobile on February 17. 
We extend our sympathy to Raymond on his bereavement. 
Denis S. Moran, B.S. '14, is the proud father of a little girl, Mary 
Elizabeth, born January 4 last. We extend our congratulations to 

'15 The engagement of Archibald Greyfer, A.B. '15, to Miss Hazel An- 
toine has been announced. The Springhillian extends its congratula- 
tions to the happy pair. 

John Van Heuval, B.S. '15, who is in the air forces of the Army of 
Occupation, has been promoted to a captaincy. 


'16 Leo J. Jagoe, B.S. '16, is to be married in Birmingham on April 26 to 
Miss Helen Ollinger of Mobile. Our best wishes to the happy pair. 

16 Lawrence Hickey, A.B. '16, has been in France as lieutenant in the 
Coast Artillery. He regrets the fact that the armistice was signed 
before he was able to meet the "Boches." 

Albin Provosty, A.B. '16, contracted pneumonia while waiting to be 
sent to France, and therefore lost his chance of going overseas. He had a 
commission as second lieutenant in the Aviation Corps, and intended taking 
up aeronautics as a profession. 

Matthew Chopin, B.S. '16, is now serving on the Rhine. He writes 
as follows to his mother of his thrilling experiences : 

Bitbury, Germany, November 16, 1918 

My Dearest Mother: Here I am with another chance to write, and I'll not miss it. 

Your boy is still 0. K., although he has been through thick and thin. Oh! this war 
has been too terrible for words, and just think, mother, after all the good fighting and 
heroic bravery our great old Eighty-ninth Division displayed in the drives, we are now 
chosen to occupy the evacuated territory of Germany, for how long I cannot tell. 

I was on the last big drive made, and we have the honor of having penetrated to 
the furehermost point in the German line. Oh, I will have worlds to tell you when I 
do return home. I have known what it meant to have shells and bullets whizzing around 
me, and what it was to go "over the top," advancing through clouds of gas and smoke, 
under rains of rifle, machine gun bullets and shrapnel, while around you are blood- 
stained comrades, moaning and breathing their last. I have carried them off the bat- 
tlefield, legs, arms, heads, bodies, all torn to pieces. Ah! such awful sights! Just a 
few feet from me two men were killed, and yet, mother, I was saved. 

I was trapped by the Huns, one mile ahead of our front line, and held five days, 
with only two cans of salmon and hardtack, and seeping water from the shell holes in 
the ground to drink. 

I know you don't know much about shells. They are shot from huge cannon, and 
when the big ones hit the ground they explode and make a hole about fifteen feet wide 
and eight to ten feet deep. You can hear them coming like a train, whining and moan- 
ing a dozen different ways as they come through the air. 

I have seen balloons and airplanes bring down men on the battlefield, and one 
shell get as many as seventeen men, tearing them to pieces. Oh, mother, as I have said, 
only one who has actually gone through it all can truly realize the horror. 

And, mother, with all this, religion seems to have been forgotten by many, where 
this war has taught me what religion means to a man — there are boys around me now 

who have been lucky enough to have gone through this h , yet with never a thought 

of thanks to Him who saved their lives. 

Through it all there was one in whom I placed my trust, and that is Our Blessed 
Mother. She has protected your boy, and will bring me back safe and sound to you and 
home. I will never forget her. 

Christmas is near, and although I'll spend a cold and dreary one, I'll think of you. 
I have received one letter from you since I left the States, which makes it mighty 
hard for a soldier over here. I can only hope you are all well. 

I am sending you a few souvenirs. A helmet, German cap, belt and buckle, I took 


from prisoners while on our drives. Also some lace and cloth, and a statue from a 
French home in the war-devastated part of France, in which I spent one night. 

The picture I am enclosing is that of a great German castle, where we have been 
billeted for the last four days. Let me say, your Yankee soldier has had some expe- 
rience on English, Belgian, French and German soil, believe me. 

How is everything at home? I would give anything to be back in the States, but 
wouldn't take anything for my experience. 

'17 Lieutenan George Ratterman, B.S. '17, has returned from his prison 
in Germany. He lately visited his alma mater, and at a reception given 
in the K. C. hut, in his honor, told of his experiences, as follows : 

Beys, you know, at least those of you who were here at school with me, that I am 
no talker. I have had so many wonderful experiences since I left dear old Spring Hill 
that I would have to be mute in order to be unable to say nothing of my stay in Hun- 
land. As you know, I enlisted in Mobile in the early part of the spring of 1917. I soon 
applied for the aviation, and was sent to the flying school at Belleville, 111., and was 
stationed at Scott Field. Here I was instructed as a pilot. I sailed for England, and 
after an uneventful trip of seventeen days, landed in Liverpool. We spent a couple of 
pleasant days in our mother country, and were sent to Tours, France, where we were 
further instructed as pilots by French officers who had been called from the front for 
the purpose. 

On May 15 we made our joyous departure for the front. Had most of us known 
what was in store for us, we would not have shown so much joy on that occasion. We 
were the first American bombing squadron, and did not even have American planes. 
We used the two-man Brequet bombing plane, and from our arrival on the front we 
had plenty to do. Our work consisted in dropping our "eggs" about thirty miles be- 
hind the German lines. Our objectives were generally German cities and railway 

"You have heard a great deal about the Germans bombing our hospitals, and what 
you have heard is true. They must have thought the allies were like themselves, and 
placed the Red Cross on every important building. It was hard for us to tell their 
hospitals, and in all probability we did hit one occasionally, for once we got wise to 
their tricks, we had no mercy for their meaningless Red Cross. 

There is something fascinating about a flier's life, and he seldom thinks of the 
danger he is in. My life as a flier was short. It was only about a month after I 
reached the front that the fateful day came for me, and put me out of the business for 
the duration of the war. On a frightful morning our commanding officer ordered six 
pianes out for bombing duty. We could not have gone up at all had not our weather 
reports been incorrect, for it gave an inaccurate forecast of the wind velocity. 

We left the ground at Neuf Chateau, and within an hour and fifteen minutes we 
were in Coblenz, Germany, a distance of over 250 miles from our starting point. We 
made the entire distance above the clouds, and when we reached Coblenz, we had lost 
our bearings. We were out of our sector, and therefore had no maps. 

Because of the uncertainty of our position, the commander would not allow us to 
release our bombs, and when we attempted to return we found that we had to face a 
gale of 120 miles an hour. We were forced to break our formation, and each one had 
to look out for himself. We landed, my pilot and I, at 10:45 o'clock that 


night on the side of a mountain in the Mosselle valley. We later found that the other 
planes landed within a radius of fifty miles of us. 

"We didn't know where we were, but we hoped that we had reached France. We 
started for the village, and soon heard a crowd of natives gabbering together. We hid 
in the grass, and when we noticed their attitude, we made two attempts to reach the 
guns on the plane. At last we gave up, for the people were sitting all over the ma- 
chine. They really did not seem bad until they noticed the "eggs" under our machine. 
Then things started. They thought it an outrage that we should come to bomb peace- 
ful citizens. 

We could not understand them, but we knew what they meant when they gave 
signs of lynching us. I never so thoroughly disapproved of lynching before. Scared? 
Oh, boy, I couldn't even say kamerad. Two soldiers appeared, and they seemed more 
scared of us than we did of them. We grabbed hold of them and made them take us to 
jail. They were our only protection. 

We were kept two days in the civil jail, during which time we were thoroughly 
searched and robbed of the greater part of our clothing. We were questioned very 
particularly, and, of course, we answered none of their questions correctly. Very often 
they would ask a question and answer it themselves, showing plainly that the Germans 
were fully aware of much of the activity of the allies. 

After the investigation we were sent to the German prison camp in Rastatt, in 
Baden, later to Karlsrue, in Baden; still later to Landshut, in Bavaria, and finally to the 
permanent officers' prison camp at Villengen, in Baden. The worst place of all was 
Landshut. The officers threatened to take the little food we had away, and they would 
^ot even let us smoke, which seemed worse than anything else. 

The prison at Villengen, too, was bad. It had formerly been a prison camp for 
Russians. We saw some Russian officers who had been prisoners for three years, and 
they were living skeletons. At Villeugen we could buy cigarettes made of cherry leaves 
for four cents apiece. They were awful. 

The coffee was an imitation, and twice a month we were given meat which didn't 
have as much nourishment as an old shoe. We were given two potatoes twice a week, 
and for the rest of the time we lived on soup and soup, and then more soup. The food 
was rotten. 

For breakfast we had imitation coffee and bread made of sawdust. I ate a good 
sized lumber yard during my stay there. For dinner we had soup made of cabbage, 
and sometimes of nothing. They take a big tub of dirty water past the kitchen and 
pass it to us and call it soup. Our "sawdust" allowance was 250 grams a day. This 
amounts to a piece about two by three inches wide, and three inches thick. 

If it wasn't for the good food that got by the Hun brigands, we would have starved 
to death. The Red Cross sent us food, but this was in large parts stolen. We were 
given no clothing, and the shoes we had given to us were made of paper. Toward the 
end the Germans started a sort of propaganda amongst us. They were continually 
telling us not to think badly of the German people. 

Just before the end of hostilities, nothing was too bad for us. If a man tried to 
escape he was terribly beaten, if he was not killed first. I saw one poor lieutenant who 
jumped off a train knocked down eight times with the but of a gun. It made us red, 
but we could do nothing. 

I was released on November 29, just 18 days after the signing of the armistice. 
And I'm giad to be back in Li'l ol' U. S. A. I've gone through a lot, but I'm glad, and 
wouldn't give the experience for all I possess. 


We are gathered here in this K. of C. hut, but you'll never know what the K. of C. 
meant to the boys over there. This hut is just like the thousands that are scattered all 
over France, and wherever our boys are it will be generations before the great work of 
the K. of C. will be forgotten. The soldier boys who have borne the brunt of this strug- 
gle have a story to tell, and when they return they will tell the world all they owe to 
the Knights of Columbus. I hope this hut stands here on the sacred grounds of my old 
alma mater as a monument to those days when a great work was done by a great organ- 
ization for the greatest soldiers in the world, barring none!" 

17 Lionel Bienvenu, B.S. '17, is continuing his study of medicine at Tu- 
lane. A card from Thomas Kean, B.S. '17, informs us that he has 
been stationed on the U. S. S. North Carolina, and visited Brest on several 

R. M. Cotter, B.S. '17, has secured his discharge from the army, and 
is again located with the Elizabeth City Shipbuilding Company. We thank 
him for the information he has so kindly supplied us concerning several 
of the old boys. 

'18 Raymond Reynaud, B.S. '18, is studying dentistry at Loyola. 

Pearce O'Leary, ex-A.B. '18, served as a lieutenant in the Coast Ar- 
tillery in France, and is expected home at an early date. 

Charles Ducote, B.S. '18, is at the Massachusetts Institute of Technol- 
ogy, studying chemical engineering. 

Richard Willard, B.S. '18, returned to his home in Guatemala. 

'19 Cornelius O'Leary, ex-A.B. '19, received his commission in the Field 
Artillery, but the sudden declaration of peace took away all his chances for 
active service in the war. 

Odell Potter, ex-B.S. '19, has returned to Mobile subsequent to receiv- 
ing his discharge from the navy. 

Charles Turner Lanham,, ex-B.S. '19, has returned decorated with a 
Red Cord of the Legion of Honor. The following selection is taken from 
the Louisville papers : 

Leaving Louisville a boy scarcely 19 years old when he donned the uniform of the 
Marine Corps, Sergeant Charles Turner Lanham today is home again, a man and a 
"Teufel Hund" who knows no master. His face and cheeks, then smooth and rosy, to- 
day are seamed; his lungs are seared and scorched from poison gas. His eyes that 
twelve months ago gleamed with the optimism of boyhood, today reflect the horrors 
of war, the sight of a "pal" killed by his side by a German spy. 

Sergeant Lanham has gone through the crucible of war. He went through the 
terrific fighting in Belleau Woods, when the Germans were faced by a mere handful 
of determined Americans, who, with only a few machine guns, drove a wedge through 
the crack Prussian Hussars, the Crown Prince's own division. The way to Paris was 
barred by less than 500 marines, and Lanham was one of them, in the Second Divis- 
ion, hailed throughout France as the saviors of Paris. Over the left shoulder he wears 
the coveted red cord of the Legion of Honor, bestowed by the French government. 


Only once was he seized with intense fear. "We got used to it, you know, in 
time," he said. "When we first got to the front, we sat and watched the big shells 
as they went over our heads. Then came the first time that men all about me fell, 
dead and maimed. We were fighting hard, and our hands were itching to get at the 
Germans. That made no difference then. The great fear that came over me was one 
night at Soissons, July 23. We had been in the thick of the fighting since June 9. 
Never had a day of rest. We were driving Fritz before us, and the lust of victory was 
in our blood. On July 23 we were moved back for a rest, and that night cast aside the 
thought of war, although in the distance the great guns boomed and the earth quivered 
under me. My 'pal' was by my side. Then there was a crash, and a high explosive 
shell fell among us. By the flare I saw my 'pal' torn by fragments of the shell. 
Eighteen dead lay about me. Another and another fell, but the range was getting 
farther and farther from us, and we knew the shells were coming from our line. 

"A German spy had crept, under cover of darkness, disguised as an American, and 
had turned our own guns on us. During that hour I lived through hell. My nerves 
were taut from the strain of forty-five days' fighting, and for the moment I thought I 
was shell shocked." 

Sergeant Lanham, who is the son of Peter Lanham, president of the Lanham 
Hardwood Flooring Company, is on a furlough until February 13, visiting his parents 
in. Audubon Park. He sailed from France on Christmas day, and landed at Newport 
News. He will go to Quantico, Va., and expects to be mustered out of the service 
within the next sixty days. 

He was going to high school here in January, 1918, and January 22 quit to join 
the Marines. He was sent to the training camp at Quantico, Va., and sailed for France 
April 23, arriving at Brest May 5. He was one of the eighty-two replacement troops 
sent to join the Sixth Regiment in Belleau Woods on June 9. 

While in Belleau Woods, the Americans had great difficulty in getting water. To 
Lanham fell the task of getting water at Lucy, three miles in the rear of the advancing 
army. He describes the thrill of creeping through the dense woods at night, sometimes 
running stooped over and crawling on his hands and knees. Water was so scarce that 
the Yankees often used the damp coffee dregs to soften their shaving brushes in the 

"Never a morning on the firing line did the Yankee forget his shave," said Lan- 
ham. "To miss a shave might have meant death. So deadly is poison gas and so pen- 
etrating that the stubble of a day's beard will prevent the gas mask from fitting close 
enough to shut out the fumes. No wonder we shaved every day." 

"When a man is gassed he cannot eat for weeks. He wastes away to a skeleton, 
and many die in the hospital. It sears the lungs and seals the air chambers. I am a 
convalescent for six months on the books," he continued. But his heart is still that 
of a boy, and his legs are young. 

'19 Merlin Blanchard, ex-B.S. '19, is pursuing his studies in dentistry at 
Loyola University. 

'20 P. D. Byrne, ex-A.B. '20, is attending the Catholic University in 
Washington, D. C. 

'22 It was with the deepest regret that we heard of the death of Bernard 
Meyer, ex-A.B. '22, as the result of an accident. The Springhillian extends 
its most sincere sympathy to his relatives and hosts of friends. 







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On January 7, Coach Ducote issued a call for candidates, and was rewarded with 
some very promising material. Lots of interest and pep was shown by the student 
body, which backed up the team as a team in a line of sport which never before seemed 
to take at the college. Next year we have no doubt basketball will take its place with 
football and baseball in the curriculum of sports at the college. 

This year's team showed lots of fine material, and under the tuteiage of "Moon" 
Ducote, developed wonderfully during the season. About twenty candidates answered 
the call and went to work with a will and determination. It took some time to pick 
the team. Robinson won the center position again this year. He eclipsed his work of 
last year by his dazzling passing and accurate goal shooting. "Robby" was all over 
the floor, and easily outplayed the opposing centers seen on the college court. Ban- 
non also improved over last year, and with Gannon and S. D'Antoni took care of the 
forward positions. At guard, Captain Reed, Walet and B. D'Antoni played a steady 
game. Their passing was good, while Walet stood out as one of the best goal shooters 
on the team. Crane at center; Alexis, Keller, LeSassier, Patterson and Toups as for- 
wards, and John and Joe Fabacher as guards completed the squad. 

The team played a good brand of basket ball, and towards the end of the season 
developed some pretty team work. With most of the squad due to come back next 
year, we hope to put the Purple and White in the same high place in this as she holds 
in other sports. The following are the scores of the games: 

Spring Hill 48, Chickasaw Shipbuilding Co., 24. 

Spring Hill 53, Ley Shipbuilding Co. 22. 

Spring iHll 26, Mobile Shipbuilding Co. 28. 

Spring Hill 22, Tulane University 67. 

Spring Hill 44, Chickasaw Shipbuilding Co. 27. 


Under Coach Ducote, the first baseball practice of the season was held on February 
20. About forty candidates answered the call, and after some deliberation the follow- 
ing were chosen to represent the Purple and White on the diamond. Bannon, last 
year's first catcher, again drew the position, with Sally D'Antoni as helpmate. Ban- 
non has improved wondex-fully over last year, and is a heady and aggressive player 
who gives promise of being a first class catcher. In the box, "Bobo" Curren, captain 
and star hurler of last year's varsity, is pitching better than ever. To prove this, we 
need only mention the fact that in one game he struck out fifteen men. This in itself 
Is somewhat of a record. Toups, former St. Charles pitcher, is second only to "Bobo." 
He has shown a remarkable assortment of breaks and good speed. He has already shown 
his value by winning both of his games. The New York Giants need not boast too 
much of their Peerless Hal Chase, for we have on our own initial sack one who is to 
college baseball just what Hal is to the major league. Crane is a brilliant fielder and 
a consistent hitter. He may be depended on to break up a game when a timely bingle 
is needed. Robby is fast developing into a good second baseman. He is fielding well, 
and has already contributed one of his usual home runs. We do not hesitate to say 
that in Gannon, Spring Hill can boast of one of the best short stops that ever played 
on a Spring Hill nine. He is a fast, clean player, a dangerous man at the bat, has a 
knack of getting on base and of getting around once he is on. In the second all-star 
game, Gannon showed his real worth when he accepted thirteen chances without an 
error. Gene Walet, football and basketball star, is holding down the hot corner. Gene 
is hitting the ball hard, and his ability to stick at the thing will make of him a great 
baseball player. 

In the outfield, we have Reed in left; Allen in center, and B. D'Antoni in right. 
Reed is a reliable fielder and a vastly improved and steady hitter. Considered last 
year a mediocre batter, he has forged to the front, and at the present is leading the 
team with an average of .357. Jules Allen is another youngster who gives promise of 
developing into a first class ball player. He is covering center field, and then some. 
Allen is a fast and sure fielder, a good bunter, and a clever base stealer. We are ex- 
pecting great things from him. B. D'Antoni takes care of right field to the satis- 
faction of everybody. "Whang" is fielding well, and hitting the ball hard. He has the 
happy faculty of hitting the ball when hits are needed. Owen McEvoy is being used as 
utility man. Owen is a valuable man to have on the team, not only because of his 
ability as a player and pinch hitter, but also because of his fighting spirit. 

We are looking forward to a very successful season, and feel sure that our predic- 
tions will be verified. The team is practicing faithfully and hard. A fine spirit is man- 
ifested in all their work. To our alumni and friends we have but one word to say 
with' regard to the 1919 baseball team— WATCH! 

Spring Hill College 11, Naval Inspectors 2 

On March 9 Spring Hill opened up the 1919 baseball season by defeating the Naval 
Inspectors team by a score of 11 to 2. The large crowd present at the game were fur- 
nished an excellent article of pitching by "Bobo" Curren and Toups of the Spring Hill 
team. In the first inning Spring Hill scored three runs on a pass issued by Pitcher 
Forcheimer to Gannon, on Moulton's error and Gannon's steal of home. With Walet on 
third, Curren hit to center field, but Selph muffed the fly, and Walet scored on Du- 
cote's infield out. Thereafter the collegians scored at will, hammering Forcheimer and 


Moulton, who succeeded him, to all corners of the field. In the seventh, the Naval team 
scored two runs on hits by Brown, Norton and Johnstone. 

Gannon led the hitting for Spring Hill, securing two singles and a double out of 
three trips to the plate. Crane's fielding and his long triple to right-center was an- 
other feature of the game. The box score: 

Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A.E. Nav. Inspec— AB. R. H. PO. A.E. 

Cannon, ss 3 3 3 110 Blank, rf 3 

Reed, If 4 10 Moulton, ss-2b 3 10 2 3 

Walet, 3b 2 113 10 Hardwick, 3b 2 

Curren, p 4 10 2 Brown, lf-ss 3 11110 

Toups, p 10 Norton, c 2 19 4 2 

Robinson, 2b 4 110 10 Selph, cf 2 10 10 2 

Ducote, cf 10 Johnstone, 2b 2 12 2 2 

Allen, cf 2 10 Vautrot, lb 3 4 1 

DAntoni, rf 3 2 Forcheimer, p-ss 2 2 

Crane, lb 411510 

Bannon, c 2 10 3 Totals 22 2 4 17 9 1 

Total 29 11 7 21 9 

Hits apportioned: off Curren none in 5 innings; off Toups 4 in 2 innings; off 
Forcheimer 6 in four innings; off Moulton, 1 in two innings. Stolen Bases — Gannon 
2, Reed, Walet, Curren, Ducote, Johnstone 2, Moulton. Sacrifice Hit — Ducote. Two- 
base Hits — Gannon, Brown, Norton. Three-base Hits — Crane, Johnstone. Struck Out 
— By Curren 7, by Toups 3, by Forcheimer 3, by Moulton 5. Hit by Pitcher — By Cur- 
ren: Hardwick, Selph. Bases on Balls — Off Curren 2, off Forcheimer 3, off Moulton 2. 
Umpire — Johnson. 

Spring Hill 3, All Stars 2— March 17 

Following our victory over the Naval Inspectors, we took on the All Stars club, 
an aggregation composed of Southern and Texas League stars. To defeat a team with 
such stars as Herb Kelly, Lefty Townsend, Carly Brown, Ham Gainer, etc., on its 
roster, is no mean feat, but with "Bobo" Curren on the mound it did not prove to be 
quite as difficult a task as we had been led to expect. 

Spring Hill drew first blood in the first inning, when Gannon walked, stole second, 
and scored when Robinson's hot grounder got through Clem Kelly. In the third in- 
ning the visitors forged ahead, when Chick Roos walked and "Hub" Kelly drove the 
ball over the right field wall for the longest home run seen at Spring Hill in the last 
five years. Curren forced Brown and Moulton to pop-up, and the scoring was over for 
the All Ctars. 

In the last half of the third, Allen, first up for Spring Hill, singled and went to 
third on Walet's hit. Robinson grounded out to second and Allen scored on the out. 
The score now stood at two all. 

The visitors came up all determined to score the runs necessary to win the game, 
but Curren's fast ball was too much for them. 

In the fourth inning, Reed singled, went to second on C. Kelly's error, went to third 
on Gannon's out, and scored when Pitcher Lacey uncorked a wild pitch. This lead 



proved ta be sufficient, as Curren was invincible, and mowed down the All Star bats- 
men via the three-strike route. 

Besides Curren's record of fifteen strikeouts, the fielding of Allen for Spring Hill 
and Kelly's home run featured. The box score: 

Spring Hill- 

AB. R.H. PO.A.E. 

Gannon, ss 3 1110 

Allen, cf 4 113 

Walet, 3b 4 10 3 

Robinson, 2b 3 2 

Curren, p 4 2 

D'Antoni, rf 4 

Crane, lb 3 5 

Reed, If 2 111 

Bannon, c 1 15 

All Stars- 
Ross, 2b 3 

C. Kelly, ss 4 

H. Kelly, rf 4 

Brown, If 3 

Moulton, 3b 4 

Steber, cf 4 

Gaines, lb 4 

Smith, c 3 

Lacey, p 2 

Townsend, p 1 


114 4 

Totals 28 3 4 27 5 

Totals 32 2 6 24 12 4 

Hits Apportioned — Off Lacey 4 in 6 innings, off Townsend in two innings. Sto- 
fen Bases — Gannon 3, Reed, Brown 4, Steber. Sacrifice Hit — Robinson. Two-base Hit — 
C. Kelly. Home Run — H. Kelly. Struck Out — Curren 15, Lacey 4, Townsend 2. Bases 
on Balls — Off Curren 3, off Lacey 3, off Townsend 1. Wild Pitch — Lacey. Umpires — 
Johnson and Castagnos. 

Spring Hill 14, Thoss 1— March 23 
In a one-sided, uninteresting game, we thoroughly outclassed the Thoss team, 
champions of the City League, a team which had on its roster some minor leaguers of 
no small fame, but before Toup's benders they were absolutely helpless. In the sec- 
ond inning they bunched four singles for their only run. Thereafter, while Toups had 
the city champions eating out of his hand, his teammates, D'Antoni, Robinson, Allen, 
Reed, Bannon and Toups himself were driving everything that Lacey could throw to 
all corners of the field. Allen contributed a drive over the left field fence to the cause, 
while B. Antoni's three singles also helped considerably; in fact, D'Antoni's all-around 
hitting and base running, coupled with Toup's stellar hurling, were the outstanding fea- 
tures of the game. The large crowd present were given a treat in the way Crane field- 
ed his position. The box score: 

Spring Hill- 

AB. R.H. PO.A.E. 

Gannon, ss 4 1112 

Allen, cf 4 2 12 

McEvoy, 3b 1110 

Walet, 3b 3 10 1 

Robinson, 2b 3 2 1110 

B. D'Antoni, rf 4 3 3 

Crane, lb 3 116 

Curren, lb 10 

Reed, If 3 2 2 10 

Bannon, c 3 2 2 8 10 

Toups, p 3 2 2 2 

S. D'Antoni 10 

Thoss— AB. R. H.PO. A.E. 

Kelly, 2b 4 2 11 

Smith, ss 3 112 2 2 

Ery, If 3 14 10 

Steber, cf 3 110 

Gaines, lb 3 2 5 

Benedict, 3b 2 

Johnson, c 3 2 

Townsend, rf 3 2 

Lacey, p 2 10 

Chambers, p 1 

Totals 2b 1 5 18 7 3 

Totals 33 14 14 21 7 1 


Hits Apportioned — Off Lacey 7 in 4 innings; off Chambers 7 in two innings. Sto- 
len Bases — D'Antoni 3, Curren, Reed, Benedict. Two-base Hit — Robinson. Home Run — 
Allen. Struck Out — By Toups G, by Chambers 1. Bases on Balls — Off Lacey 1, off 
Chambers 4, off Toups 3. Wild Pitch — Lacey. Passed Balls — Johnson (3). Umpires — 
Castagnos and Williams. 

Spring Hill 5, Mobile Shipbuilding Co. 4— March 30 

The game was hotJy contested throughout, but the Shipbuilders could do nothing 
with Curren in the pinches. 

In the first inning, Gannon lead-off man, struck out; Allen flied out to left; Walet 
reached first when Shortstop Davis allowed his grounder to get away from him, and 
stole second. Robinson then connected with one of Anderson's fast balls and drove 
it over left field fence scoring Walet and himself. 

Moshico scored one in the second on a walk issued to Johnson, and hits by Vassey 
and Kelly. There was no more scoring until the fourth, when Spring Hill scored three 
runs on Robinson's walk, Crane's fly, which was dropped by Vassey, and hits by Reed, 
Bannon and Curren. Moshico scored once in the fifth on hits by Kelly and Benedict. 

In the ninth inning the Moshico team staged an eleventh-hour rally, and succeeded 
in putting two runs across, which, however, were not sufficient to overcome the lead 
amassed by Spring Hill. The box score: 

Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A.E. Moshico— AB. R. H. PO.A. E. 

Allen, cf 4 2 10 Kelly, 2b 3 2 2 110 

Walet, 3b 4 112 3 Benedict, 3b 4 2 3 

Robinson, 2b 3 2 12 4 H. Kelly, rf 2 2 

D'Antoni, rf 4 Neely, If 4 2 

Crane, lb 6 2 1 12 1 Davis, ss 5 10 2 1 

Reed, If 2 110 Williams, lb 5 18 

Bannon, c 3 18 10 Johnson, c 3 11 1 

Curren, p 3 10 3 Vassey, cf 4 2 11 

-. Anderson, p 2 10 10 

Totals 28 5 5 27 13 1 McKinnon, cf 2 10 

Totals 34 4 8 24 9 2 

Hits Apportioned — Off Anderson 4 in 4 innings; off Vassey 1 in 4 innings. Struck 
Out — By Curren 7, by Anderson 3, by Vassey 6. Bases on Balls — Off Curren 7, off An- 
derson 2. Double Play— Robinsor to Crane. Home Run — Robinson. Stolen Bases — 
Walet, Curran, Benedict 2 Davis, Williams. Sacrifice Hit — Reed. Umpires — Turner 
and "Dug" Neely. 

Spring Hill Team Stores Easy Victory Over Mobile Professionals 

(The following extract from r l he Register speaks for itself): 

Spring Hill College broke all precedents Sunday afternoon, when the ball team rep- 
resenting the institution handed a neat, honest-to-goodness trimming to the Mobile 
Southern League entry. The collegians not only defeated the leaguers decisively by a 
score of 7 to 1, but "Bobo" Curren, pitching on behalf of the Purple and White, polished 
off the victory over Mobile by allowing only two hits. The contest, the first of the year 
In which the Mobile team has taken part, drew a crowd of about 1,500 people. The fans 
watched the game with mingled feelings — they rejoiced to see the youngsters put it 


over their older and more experienced opponnts, but at th same time they were a bit 
disappointed that the ball team gathered to represent Mobile in the approaching South- 
ern League race was unable to make a runaway of the game. 

Every year since Mobile has owned a baseball franchise in any league, the game 
with the collegians has been an annual event. Never before has the college been able 
to trim the professionals, not within the memory of the writer, anyway, and naturally 
the victory was a source of such joy and cause for great jubilation among the student 
body of Spring Hill. 

There was nothing fluky about the victory of the collegions, they won by playing 
the better ball. They hit consistently and hard, fielded far better than their opponents, 
while Curren's pitching was exceptionally good. Mobile not only played ragged and 
loose ball, in the field, but was unable to hit. Curren had them completely baffled, 
making only one solid hit off his delivery, and with not more than a couple of balls hit 
hard. And while the Bears were trying to fathom what Curren was throwing at them, 
the collegians were banging away at the deliveries of both Fulton and Johnson, neither 
being able to hold the college boys in check. Fulton was hit safely seven times during 
the five innings he occupied the mound. His support was weak, but in the pinches he 
was hit solidly. Arthur Johnson came into the game in the sixth inning and fared but 
slightly better, giving up four hits and two runs in the four innings he twirled. 

The college boys mixed three hits with an error to score two runs in the second 
inning. "Moon" Ducote, college coach, and who will play with Mobile this year, opened 
the round with a blow to center. Crane was retired on strikes, but Reed singled to 
right, advancing "Moon" to second. Bannon then bounced a drive off the right field 
fence, scoring Ducote, and when the return throw to the infield was muffed, Reed also 

Three more runs were added in the third. Gannon opened with a hit, and was sac- 
rificed. Walet scored him with a two-base hit down first base line, and kept on to third 
on an error. Ducote scored Walet with a solid single to left-center. Ducote then stole 
second and third, and after Crane walked, a double steal was worked, Ducote scoring. 

The collegians added another run in the seventh on a single by Gannon, a steal, and 
D'Antoni's hit, while the seventh and last run for the college was scored on an error 
by Schulte, a local boy playing right field for Mobile, a stolen base and Bannon's single. 

Mobile did not get near the plate except in one inning, the eighth, when their lone 
run was made. Three walks filled the bases, and Tom McMillan's single to left scored 
Schulte with the only run made by Mobile. 

Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A.E. Mobile— AB. R.H. PO. A.E. 

Gannon, ss 5 2 3 12 Summa, cf 4 10 1 

D'Antoni, rf 3 13 McMillan, ss 4 10 3 2 

Walet, 3b 5 110 3 1 Meyers, 2b : 4 3 10 

Robinson, 2b 5 14 5 Brown, lb 4 15 

Ducote, cf-lb 5 2 2 2 10 Roland, If 3 

Crane, lb 3 10 8 Untz, 3b 4 2 

Allen, cf 10 Schulte, rf 2 10 10 1 

Reed, If _ 3 1110 Benedict, c 2 6 

Bannon, c 4 2 7 Fulton, p 10 10 6 

Curren, p 4 1 Johnson, p 1 1 

Totals 37 7 11 27 11 2 Totals 29 1 2 27 12 4 



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Summary — Two-base Hit — Walet. Sacrifice Hits — D'Antoni 2. Stolen Bases — 
Ducote 3, Gannon, D'Antoni, Robinson, Crane 2. Double Plays — Robinson to Gannon; 
Walet to Robinson to Ducote. Struck Out — By Fulton 3, by Johnson 2, by Curren 6. 
Bases on Balls — Off Fulton 1, off Johnson 1, off Curren 4. Hit by Pitched Ball — By 
Curren (Schulte). Hits Apportioned — 7 hits with 5 runs off Fulton in 5 innings; 4 hits 
with 2 runs off Johnson in 4 innings. Left on Bases — Mobile 5, Spring Hill 6. Time — 
1 :45. Umpire — Cavet. 


The night before departing for Christmas vacations, 

FOOTBALL the High School football squad met in the Junior 

LUNCHEON library, where a luncheon was served and the season 

officially brought to a close. In their addresses, the 

prefect and coach both expressed themselves satisfied with the season's 

record. At the conclusion, Jules Allen was elected captain for the coming 


Little interest was taken in basketball this year in the 
BASKETBALL way of organizing a representative High School team. 

The fact that a good team could have been produced 
was brought out forcibly when a picked five of the High School defeated St. 
Vincent's (the identical quintette which had a long unbroken string of 
victories along the Gulf Coast) without ever having practiced together. The 
June Bugs turned out a splendid team, defeating all combinations the yard 
could furnish, outside the first league. Post-"flu" conditions cut off all 
competition from outside clubs. League basketball flourished, and devel- 
oped some material which we expect will creditably represent the High 
School next season. 

On Wednesday, February 19, the junior yard had its 
FIELD field day, which will go down in the records as a most 

DAY successful one. Max Landry took the lion's share in 

the senior events, getting sixteen points, while Robert 
Dimitry and Harry Cashin were tied in the junior contests with 13 points 
each. All the events were closely contested, and afforded the large num- 
ber of spectators plenty of excitement. The winners were: 

100-yard Dash — Landry, Levy, Thompson. 
220-yard Dash — Landry, Levy, Putnam. 
Broad Jump — Thompson, Allen, Landry. 


Shot Put — Putman, Levy, Walet. 
Baseball Throw — Putman, Levy, Allen. 
Obstacle Race — Walsdorf, Alciatore, Hannie. 
Potato Race — Hannie, Bogue, Semmes. 
Points — Landry 16, Putman 12, Levy 12. 

50-yard Dash — Dimitry, Zieman, Druhan. 
Broad Jump — Olivier, Foster, Zieman. 
High Jump — Dimitry, Walsh, Law. 
Baseball Throw — Rosasco, Cashin, Cobian. 
Obstacle Race — Cashin, Dimitry, Law. 
Potato Race — Cobian, Marston, Foster. 
Candle Race — Cashin, Foster, Walsh. 
Points — Dimitry 13, Cashin 13, Foster 7. 

The junior division wishes to thank the Mobile merchants, who gen- 
erously donated the splendid prizes. 

This year's High School team is well up to the standard 
BASEBALL of former years. Of last year's nine, Captain Morgan, 
Allen and Murphy remain, while Fitzgibbons, Hyrone- 
mus, Marston and Burguieres have worked themselves out of the substi- 
tute class. Beatrous, Hebert, Putman, Santa Maria and Shanahan are the 
newcomers whose ability has gained them a place on the squad. 
High School 11, St. Joseph's Club 
Our first game resulted in an easy victory, Fitzgibbons allowing the 
visitors only three hits, while he fanned 12. Meanwhile the High School 
boys bunched hits to advantage. 

St. Joseph's Club 0000000 0—0 3 5 

S. H. C. High 4 2 2 3 *— 11 12 2 

Batteries — S. H. C. Fitzgibbons and Burguieres; St. Joseph, Murphy 
and McEvoy. 

High School 18, Barton 6 

The first game for the High School title proved an easy victory over 
Barton Academy. Our boys got right down to work in the first innings, 
and by mixing long hits with Barton's errors, put the game on ice. Barton 
hit hard throughout, finally displacing Hyronemus in the sixth, but the 
S. H. C. team kept piling up the score, shutting off all chance of defeat. 

Barton 0000402 0—6 11 5 

S. H. C. High 6 4 112 4 *— 18 17 4 

Batteries — S. H. C, Hyronemus, Fitzgibbons and Burguieres ; Barton, 
Sinbach and Jacoby. 


High School 13, U. M. S. 6 

In one big inning we defeated the University Military School. The 
Wright's boys took an early lead, scoring twice in the second inning and 
once in the third, on timely hits. With two down in the third, the Purple 
and White wrecking crew started work. Six singles, a triple, a home run, 
an error and a base on balls gave us ten runs, which proved sufficient for 
winning. Hebert tripled and Captain Morgan sent out his long home run, 
each with two men on base. Roe replaced Smith, but our boys found him 
for four hits and three more runs. Fitzgibbons succeeded Hyronemus, 
and gave up only three singles, but each one came after an error had placed 
a man on second, and thus each meant a tally. 

U. M. S 2100110 1—6 6 4 

S. H. C. High 10 2 1 *— 13 12 5 

Batteries — S. H. C, Hyronemus, Fitzgibbons and Burguieres ; U. M. 
S., Smith, Roe and Burgett. 

High School 8-21; Citronelle High School 2-1 

On April 12 the High School took a pair of games from Citronelle. 
Rowell showed lots of stuff, striking out thirteen Spring Hill batters in 
the first game. Of the six hits he yielded, two were unfielded bunts, the 
infield going to pieces at critical times. In the second game, however, he 
soon weakened. His successor proved easy picking, and the game became 
too one-sided to be interesting. Many of the juniors were given a try- 
out and showed up well. Putman, Burguieres and Morgan did splendid 
stick work. 

Citronelle 1 10 0—2 2 6 

S. H. C. High : 1 4 2 1 *— 8 6 2 

Batteries — Citronelle, Rowell and Rainey; S. H. C. High, Fitzgibbons 
and Burguieres. 

Citronelle 10000 0—1 3 7 

S. H. C. High 2 1 2 6 10 *— 21 14 1 

Batteries — Citronelle, Rowell, White and Rainey; S. H. C. High, Hy- 
ronemus, Marston, and Burguieres, O'Shee. 

High School 9, St. Joseph's Club 4 

Our second victory over St. Joseph's was due to timely hitting and 
good use of the squeeze play. Hyronemus pitched well, and with perfect 
support would have blanked the visitors. After a bad inning at the 
start, our seam settled down and worked smoothly. 

St. Joseph's Club 3 1-000 4 5 6 

S. H. C. High 3 10 4 1 *— 9 8 4 

Batteries— St. Joseph's, Murphy and Morrison ; S. H. C. High, Hy- 
ronemus and Burguieres. 


J. KOPECKY, A.B. '19 
Though poems are rather scarce in the February issue of the FORDHAM MONTH- 
LY, the examples which we read are very creditable to their authors. "Twilight" is at- 
tractively descriptive of nature, and "Resolution," besides being very instructive, strikes 
us by its forceful expression. The proposed educational reform is exhibited in its true 
light by the writer of "Smith on Education," for he shows its noxious effects upon the 
child and nation as a whole. "Camouflage" is likewise an interesting dissertation, offer- 
ing ample food for reflection. An entertaining story is presented to us in "The Good 
That Spirits Do," while "The Bellman" is a vivid narrative, full of feeling. 

The Spring issue of the BORROMEAN is certainly a commendable one, replete 
with deserving productions. The essays, "The Champion of a Champion Cause," and 
"Theodore Roosevelt, the American," are forceful summaries of Foch's and Roose- 
velt's lives and virtues, beautifully portraying the spotless life, childlike faith and re- 
markable achievements of the former, as well as fine character and unwavering patriot- 
ism of the latter. The editorial, "The American Soldier," is a concise but graphic de- 
scription of the typical khaki-clad soldier. Every species of Bolshevism, the only rem- 
edy, is ably discusbsed in "The Blood-Red Flag in Germany and Russia." 

Some of the poems are unusually good, displaying the authors' command of Eng- 
lish. The war stories, "Question of Secrecy," "When Cupid Used a German Code," and 
"The Face in a Ring of Gold," are among the best we have read lately, each being orig- 
inal, well developed and leaving a very good impression on the reader. 

The literary merit of the February number of the HOLY CROSS PURPLE is 
undoubtedly to be highly commended, but it appears to us that an issue of this kind is 
enjoyed to a greater extent if a short-story or two be brought in for the sake of variety 
and to lighten the serious strain of thought which is wont to accompany the perusal 
of a number of essays and editorials. The poem "Frustration" tactfully points out 
the futility of worldly ambitions. Among the other productions expressed in beautiful, 
poetic language, are "Hope," "The Spirit Unconquerable," and "Two Loves and a Con- 
trast." "On Silence" is a well written essay, and "Emotions Amuck" is a pleasant dis- 
cussion of various kinds of intoxication. A neat description of an amateur's first day 
of log-driving is contained in "From Waugan to Waugan." 

Though there are war-stories and essays in the February DE PAUL UNIVER- 
SAL," there is also a pleasant departure from the military atmosphere which is not 
characteristic of most modern literature. The low standards prevalent among modern 
critics are rightly deplored in "The Art of Criticism," and the writer's examples are 
very convincing. "America First," an editorial, reminds us that this slogan has never 
been used in a restricted sense, and as true Americans, we should not allow it to be 
done now. "A Fancy," and "The Heroes Unsung" are among the deserving poems of 
the issue. 

In the list of short-stories are "The Personal Interest," a good description of human 
nature; "Just Jack," which is very interesting, having, however, a rather strange cli- 
max, and "The Phantom Flag" full of entertaining situations. 



It is not difficult to pen a tribute to a life of unselfish service for 
others, nor is it difficult to justify the character and deeds of a man whose 
whole life was conformed to the standard set by the Son of God. It is con- 
soling to look back over the past of a dear, departed one, and realize that 
its days, even nights, of little unremembered acts of kindness must needs 
win for him the eternal crown. For the infallible sign of a noble heart is 
the persistent and loving kindness towards the neighbor. And so when, 
on January 19th, Dr. Angelo Festorazzi passed away, he seemed like to the 
tired worker, who, after the toil and sweat and heat of the day sinks down 
into refreshing slumber. And when he waked, it was the soothing voice of 
the Master "What you did to the least of these my little ones you did 
unto me." 

Dr. Festorazzi was born in Mobile, Ala., fifty-four years ago. He re- 
ceived his education at Spring Hill, graduating in the A.B. Class of '84. At 
school he was a good student, and received a commendation from his pro- 
fessors for his good conduct. After graduation he entered the Mobile Med- 
ical College and graduated M. D. He was a member and the medical ex- 
aminer of the Catholic Knights of America and other leading organizations 
in Mobile. 

The Mobile Register paid the following tribute to our departed 
alumnus : 

"The tribute paid yesterday to the memory of Dr. Angelo Festorazzi by the great 
attendance upon the funeral service was well deserved by a life that was spent here 
among our people, honestly and conscientiously: without show, and with the simple 
purpose to be helpful in every possible way. The Doctor contributed by his goodheart- 
edness, his urbanity, and his ready service, to the well-being of the community, and his 
death is sincerely and widely regretted." 

The Doctor was simply a true man, who loved his profession, and filled 
it to the best of his ability. He was noted especially for his consideration 
and kindness to the poor. His life was without ostentation, and we can 
truly say of him: 

"So calm, so constant was his rectitude 

That by his loss alone we know its worth. 
And feel how true a man has walked 
With us on earth." 

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JUNE, 1919 


Frontispiece : Our New Commandant 

Ferdinand Foch (Verse) 269 

A. C. M. 

Frederick Ozanam and Social Discontent (Essay) 271 


Liberty Bonds (Story) 273 


His Croix de Guerre (Verse) 277 


In Praise of Swimming (Essay) 278 

Triumphant Democracy (Story) 282 


Ghosts of Yesterday (Verse) 285 


Heroics in Mufti (Story) 286 


Living Shrines (Verse) 289 

s. L. 

EDITORIALS— Lest We Forget 290 

Our New Commandant 292 


Diary, Chronicle, College Locals, High School Locals 

Alumni Notes, College Baseball 

High School Athletics 









®fje ^pnngljtUtatt 

VOL. XT JUNE, 1919 No. 4 


3far&tnan& 3talj 

Man of the Hour ! Yet Man of Ancient Faith ! 

Timely thou springest from perennial veins. 

Thy wells of mine have filled the strength of France 

As mountain-wall against the ocean-dash. 

But more than timely, aye, eternal runs 

The fountain-veins, the genius of thy springs, 

Thou under-current Master of the Floods! 

For underneath the loud, tumultuous swell 

Of battle-shouts and shells of friends and foes, 

Pure runs the current, independent, strong, 

Working her way amid the passion-foam 

On, on, to feed the land with prosperous streams 

And strength of vegetation. Lo, how steady 

The flow, which neither surges from above 

Inflate, nor earth beneath draws down despondent, 

But patient, pearling, striving, straining ever, 

Wends her unending way. 

What is it? Answer, 
Ye Under-caves that mark the paths of ocean, 
Ye Minds that delve into the Gore-gulf's depth, 
Ye Souls that watch the deep of human lives, 
Answer for Foch, until the whole world know, 
Till pole to pole and strand to strand entone; 

Thou one sole Stream, 
Embodying the swells of friends and foes 
And losing both amid the peaceful sea, 
All hair ! 

Victor, thou bringest back the day 
When Kephas tread upon the billow's brow. 
What tho' thou seemest overwhelmed ? What tho' 
Once more the billows rave? The self-same power, 
Which drew the "Fear Not" from the Sea-God's lips, 
Will draw His Spirit yet, the Breath which once, 


Before Earth blushed to drink the blood of man, 
Breathed calm on lilies, stillness on the sea, 
And man's own smile, His image, over all. 

The main storm now is past. But be thy current 

Close by our port, until the second storm 

Shall pass. A thousand yet, upon our right, 

Ten thousand en our left, may fall. But thou, 

Thou Gulf -stream pouring through the ocean-spasms, 

Move softly near: thy path is underneath, 

Aye, underneath the tears, in seas of hearts, 

Perennial as the on-flow of the soul. 

Thy peace-flood, loosed from Tabernacle-doors, 

Shall pour upon the world : God governs still ! 

—A. C. M. 



fflnbtruk ©zanam ani gwtal StBronient 

T. HAILS, A.B. '19 

HUNDRED YEARS HAVE PASSED, and the words of Ozanam 
in the Sarbonne are being verified. Conditions today are what he 
prophesied they would be, for they are but the logical develop- 
ment of his own times. The divisions which then existed in 
society have grown deeper and wider now, and Capital and Labor. 
with ever-separate interests, have become hostile camps. 

The main portions of Ozanam's life fell in troubled and dangerous 
times. Born in Milan in 1813, he was scarcely seventeen years old when the 
revolution overturning the throne of Charles X began to gather further 
strength for the greater revolution of 1848. 

Paris, honeycombed with infidelity, and seething with scepticism, was 
still filled with the rancor of Voltaire's bitter wit and hatred of Christian- 
ity. The seeds of Socialism sown by the first revolution, its lusts and ter- 
rors were already bearing fruit. Anarchy stalked the earth, and the whole 
was but an undeveloped form of what we are witnessing in Russia and 
Central Europe today. "I felt," said Ozanam of himself, "that the past was 
falling to pieces ; that the foundations of the building we have known are 
shaken, that an earthquake has changed the face of the earth." Yet, he 
did not despair. Amidst the wreck of social and political institutions, he 
took his stand on the bed-rock of human life — the essential truth of relig- 
ion, the revelation of God and His immutable power sustaining and shaping 
the changing world. That foundation for him was the Catholic Faith un- 
folding itself in Catholic charity. "These are the things," said he, "which 
society needs ; and these are the things which I equally need." 

"One only means of salvation remains to us: that is, that 
Christians in the name of love interpose between the hostile camps — 
the camp of the rich and the camp of the poor — and passing like beneficial 
deserters from one to the other, collect abundant alms from the rich, and 
resignation from the poor, teaching them on both sides to regard each 
other as brothers." 

All this was his policy and the aim of his life. Yet, he knew that these 
ideals would be incapable of accomplishment unless he first struck at the 
root of the evil — false education. 

To the university he hies, and teaches those lessons of Christian de- 
mocracy which have made his name a proverb wherever organized charity 
is known. He was the first to perceive that principle now universally ac- 


cepted that you do not really help people unless you help them to be better 
men and women. Not merely the bread that perishes, but the alms of 
counsel and good advice was to be given. People were to be educated into 
contentment with their lot by a knowledge of the truth, and by showing 
them the absurdity of the systems such as anarchy and socialism, which 
proposed false remedies for existing evils. He believed that a Christian de- 
mocracy was the end toward which Providence was leading the world : and 
he saw in the Christian revelation and in the traditional teaching of the 
church the germs of an ideal of government which he expressed in the for- 
mula — his life's epitome. "The self-sacrifice of each for the benefit of all." 
"This," he added, "was the Christian republic of the primitive church, and 
it will probably be the form of government in time to come." His dream 
was to unite the master forces of Catholicism and Freedom — a dream which 
has since, to some extent, been realized, and is still being increasingly ful- 

"I have always believed," he wrote, "when things were at their worst 
in the possibility of a Christian democracy as a remedy to the social ques- 
tion." This, and not any political issue, he argued, was the great essential. 

THE SO-CALLED SCIENTIFIC FIELD of modern charitable endeavor 
owes much to the inspirations and ideals of Ozanam. Few there are 
who have not recognized that he held the true key to the great social 

Yet, his example of his life has perhaps worked more unto good than 
his teaching. For Ozanam lived what he taught, and the memory of the 
brilliant young lawyer who sacrificed himself so faithfully in behalf of the 
Parisian poor, who spent himself so completely in the service of his pupils 
and all that in spite of opposition without ceasing — this has come down to 
us, rather than his writings and eloquence, to prove to the twentieth as it 
did to the nineteenth century, that Christianity was not dead, as they as- 
serted, but still lived, and was yet fruitful of good works. 

"Would that God would raise up some more laymen like Ozanam," said 
Cardinal Manning some forty years ago. If there was need of such men 
then, how much more now when false systems have displayed their hands, 
each claiming as none before to hold the true solution to the social problem. 
Bolshevism, I. W. W., and a score of other organizations are at our very 
doors. They have come from afar, but now they confront us, and we must 
meet the issue. New systems of education threaten our schools which may 
endanger the welfare of the growing generation. Where lies our hope and 
that of the world, if it be not— to use the words of Leo XIII— "In brave men 
of deep knowledge and earnest endeavor of the type of Frederick Ozanam?" 



ffiibprtg Innifi 

B. COSIO, A.B. '22 

in the fall of 1930, and visitors used to come a few nights each 
week to spend the evenings with us. There were pretty sure 
ym-jifV} to be a half-dozen or more gray heads there, and if it were 
**f/) jg~ good outdoor weather they would sit in a row on the wide, low 
veranda, smoking their pipes and their cigars. And while they sat and 
talked, I would perch on the top step of the porch, hugging my knees to- 
gether and listening. It was on just such a night as this that I heard the 
story of my father's capture. I think it must have been in July, or maybe 
it was August. To the northward the sheet lightning played back and 
forth like a great winkling lens, and the big bassooning of frogs was all 
that broke the stillness. 

FOR THREE DAYS AND NIGHTS," my father began, "I had been held 
a prisoner in the cellar ol this old French castle just behind the German 
lines. For three days and three nights my sole visitor had been the aged 
French keeper who brought my meals and vanished as noiselessly as he had 
entered. , . 

"Therefore, it was with great surprise that I heard heavy footsteps 
overhead of someone descending the stairs, and the clang of metal as the 
bolt was drawn back from the lock of my cell. . Slowly the door opened, 
and a large, well-built officer entered the room. He was a typical German, 
with a long mustache curled up at the ends, and short cropped hair, which 
was just beginning to turn gray. He advanced towards me and explained 
to me in a deep guttural tone that I must come with him to headquarters. 

"As I walked along the country road, under heavy guard, my spirits 
naturally rose. There was a lull in the battle, and the birds taking courage 
sang forth their carol of joy over the battle-scarred landscape. The sun 
was just sinking over the horizon painting the landscape in a robe of blood 
that seemed to blend well with the cannon, the tanks and other engines 
of destruction. The frogs and crickets in the little pools along the way 
burst forth into lusty chorus. I was interrupted in my musing by 
the roar of the cannon as hostilities were resumed. Then I walked along in 
silence until I reached the minister's headquarters, where I was confronted 
by a member of the Wilhelmstrasse. Expecting to see a type of man sim- 
ilar to my messenger, I was surprised to notice that this man was closely 


shaven, neatly dressed, resembled an Englishman more than a German, 
and spoke without that peculiar Teutonic accent. 

" 'We know that the lieutenant has on his person an important dis- 
patch. Will he give it to us now without trouble, or must we take it from 
him by force?' spoke the officer. 

" Tf you were as wise as you think,' I answered, 'y° u would know that 
I have no information, and that I was merely with a raiding party when 

" 'Come, now, Wayne,' he interjected, 'we know that you have an im- 
portant message, and we are going to get it.' 

"Thereupon they seized and examined me from head to foot. I was 
given mud baths, treated with chemicals, but no message was brought to 
light. My clothes were then explored. The coat and trousers were torn 
open, and the shoes ripped apart. My hat came next, but all in vain — the 
message lay secure in its hiding place. The authorities were baffled at 
these fruitless attempts. They put me through a severe mental test sim- 
ilar to the third degree, and tortured my body in the most fiendish ways, 
but I steadfastly refused to divulge my secret. 

;. .."A few days later I was summoned before a military court, which was 
to try me. The charges were presented to the judge. T was a spy, had been 
caught a few days prior in a captured French village. When caught, I had 
defied his keepers, breaking away and killing two of their number.' After 
the usual formalities, the judge presented the verdict — the prisoner was to 
die at sunrise by a firing squad ! 

"I paled at the news. At most, a long term of imprisonment was 
what I expected. I was but a young man, life was very sweet to me, ana 
to be thus cut off from society was a severe blow indeed. With drawn and 
haggard features, but with firm step, I returned, under heavy escort, to the 
prison. The door clanged behind me, and I was left to myself. I sat there 
in the darkness, as in a stupor, reflecting on my terrible fate. The town 
clock struck the hour of twelve — the hour of mystery and of ghastly 
crimes. It brought to me a fantastic vision of a country across the waters, 
rich with tropical vegetation and sunshine, filled with the mighty pines and 
cypress, a land overflowing with romance and promise — the country of 
my birth. 

"I saw in the vision my aged mother at the gate staring away into the 
distance as though she were picturing my present plight. Thus I whiled 
away the weary hours. Every action, every deed of my whole life was 
spread out before me. My school-boy days, with their tricks and pranks ; 
my college days with their golden promise ; and last, my business days when 
I had gone out into the whirlpool of life to bear my share of the burden. 


"Why should I give all these things up, when I had merely to rush to 
the door, summon the authorities, divulge my secret and go free? I could 
tell my own superior officers that the message had been found by the 
searchers. I was the only support to my mother. Was it right that I 
should give my life away when it did not belong to me? My country de- 
manded my life if it were necessary, but would my country see to it that 
my mother was cared for after I was gone? Could my country stop that 
great heart from sorrowing over the death of her son? If mine were the 
supreme sacrifice, my name would never be mentioned in history. My pass- 
ing away would be but a mere incident in the great war for democracy. No, 
it was to much ! I would confess all. In another hour the sun would rise 
in the East and bring with it the guards. I would demand to see the officer, 
give him the message and obtain my freedom! I thought it was very sim- 
ple, as I lay back contentedly against the wall of my cell. 

"A half hour passed ! I started abruptly. My better nature was slowly 
asserting itself. True, I would be free to assist mother once more, but 
could I bear the memory of this hideous deed through the ensuing years ? 
Could I look down into the eyes of my innocent children and tell them that 
their father was a brave man in his time? There on my person I held a 
dispatch which gave the exact location of an American battalion! Should 
the Germans obtain this message, they would have those Americans at 
their mercy ! It would be a heinous crime to sacrifice so many lives for 
my own selfish desire to live ! Thus I swayed back and forth. Sometimes 
my animal passions were on top; sometimes my good qualities rallied and 
obtained the upper hand. After a great and final struggle, I resigned myself 
to my fate, and lay back exhausted. But then the thought struck me : why 
should I sit there idle when I should be looking for a means of escape ? It 
was only a few moments before daybreak and death, but as long as the 
heart performs its office there is always a lingering spark of hope, bright 
at times, almost imperceptible at other times — but always there. 

"I remembered seeing a large black hole in the wall of my cell. Guided 
by my memory, I crawled on hands and knees to the spot. The hole was 
about two by three feet, and, without hesitating, I crawled in. After I had 
gone four or five yards, I was arrested by a sound. Extending my hand 
outward, I encountered blank space. I listened more attentively, and was 
rewarded by the murmur of a rushing mountain stream. There, ten feet 
below me, the water was rushing past at a great clip. I reflected in all 
probabilities that this subterranean mountain stream went down hundreds 
of feet into the earth. Even if I escaped the rocks, I would probably be 
clashed to pieces against some boulder as I was carried along by the cur- 
rent. Suddenly I heard a noise above: it was daylight, and my guards 


were coming. I could hear them descending the stairs. Then it was that I 
made my decision. 

"The door of the prison was thrown open, and the firing squad ad- 
vanced into the room in military formation. The corporal was the last to 
enter. He looked in astonishment at the cell. It was empty ! The prisoner 
had vanished! Orders were given to surround the castle, and the soldiers 
were commanded to shoot the prisoner on sight ! As I lunged through the 
air, I could hear the loud cries of astonishment from the guards. Then 
everything was blotted fro ca my mind as I bit through the icy water. I 
came to the surface, gasping for air, and was swished along by the current. 
It was with difficulty that I managed to keep my head above the surface, 
so roughly was I handled by the angry waters. After I had been swept 
along for about a quarter of a mile, I came to a bend in the course. I was 
flung to one side; my feet jagged against a rock, and I touched a sandy bot- 
tom. Falling to my knees, I dug my hands into the bed of the river, cling- 
ing with the tenacity of a desperate man. Silently they battled together: 
man against nature! Inch by inch, I gained; inch by inch, the water be- 
came shallower, until, with a wild cry of joy I flung myself on the 
dry ground and fainted away ! 

"When I came to, I lay en a blanket near a large fire. Around it were 
gathered two men, one hanging up his wet garments, and the other cook- 
ing a broth on the fire. 

" 'Monsieur has recovered quickly,' said the first peasant, with a 
friendly smile. Mustering up the best French at my command, I endeav- 
ored to explain to them my condition, and found out from them that I was 
in a large cave near the German lines ; that the two aged Frenchmen had 
betaken themselves to this cave a year before, and never ventured forth 
except by night for food. 

"But I had learned all I wished. I mastered myself, and smiled as I 
thought of the message lying secure in the hollow buckle of my belt ! 

" 'So that was how you escaped ?' queried an old friend, surveying my 
father, with admiration. 

" 'No ; that was really my capture !' he replied, 'for I met her a few 
days later (as he pointed to my mother) . She was hanging some clothes on 
a line near the roadside, and helped me to reach the lines once more. A 
pretty French girl at the time, and I have been a captive ever since !" 

Sfta (Erntx b? (Suerr? 

He was too old to fight, they said — 
But though the frost was on his head, 

The holy fire was in his heart. 
So as an aumonier he came, 
Bold a? a paladin aflame 
To honour his beloved's name 

By playing well a hero's part. 

There was no weariness for him, 
His faded eyes were never dim 

In finding where the wounded lay, 
His frail old limbs were strong to plod 
Across the marsh of bloody sod 
That none might go afraid to God 

Without His love to light the way. 

So often for the final word 

A woman's name was what he heard. 

Then he would whisper back : "I know" — 

Wistful a moment for the sight 

Of a little dingy church all bright 

With candles for a holy night, 

Our Lady Smiling in the glow. 

At last an obus had its will, 
One leg was torn away, but still 

Among the dying he crawled on. 
Another shot — this time he fell 
And could not rise ... he heard his bell 
Ringing the Angelus. Out of hell 

And into Heaven he was gone. 

Little and dingy — but the light 
Of candles falls by day and night. 

Upon a soldier's medal there 
Set shrine-like at the chancel side. 
For to the church that was his bride, 
Whose lover he had lived and died, 

France gave his Croix de Guerre. 

— E. STRAUSS, A.B. '20 


3n Praia? of Swimming 

OME CRITICS CLAIM that they understand everything thai 
Robert Browning has written. Perhaps they do. There are 
some wonderful powers latent in the human intellect that have 
never been fully explored. To most of us, however, there are 
still some puzzles to be solved in his poems, many passages that 
seem to defy solution, and we fear, many enigmas purposely proposed by 
this English Sphinx. Be this as it may, there are two stanzas in "Amphib- 
ian" that are pellucid even to the most dense of us : for they are a perfect 
expression of a well-nigh perfect sensation. 

"But sometimes when the weather 

Is blue, and warm waves tempt 
To free oneself of tether, 

And try a life exempt 
From worldly noise and dust 

In the sphere which overbrims 
With passion and thought — why, just 

Unable to fly, one swims!" 

There, caught in a golden net of words, is the fine joy of swimming — a 
butterfly aloofness of body; z freedom from earth and its restraints like 
that of a disembodied spirit. Of course, now that aeroplanes are becoming 
as numerous as the ubiquitious jitney, one is "able to fly: but, what with 
the danger, and what with the bundling uniform necessary to the aeronaut, 
we doubt that this sport wiil ever give the unalloyed pleasure to be had in 
the clear-flowing stream. 

Spring Hill boys know the enjoyment to be derived from swimming, 
and their indulgence in it has made them known far and wide as experts in 
it — John Metzger is but one of many. Their jewel of a lake set in its band 
of emerald would delight the heart of any aquatic athlete. The clear, 
sparkling water gushing in such abundance from the hidden spring, prom- 
ises delights that conceal no lurking danger. For the daring there is the 
broad middle route — as ever "in medio stat virtus" : for the timid there is 
"Misery Hole" — but who would stay in that disgraceful place once his ar- 
duous "rooky" days are over. 

The recollection of the hazardous experiments and doughty deeds of 
the valorous knights of a bygone day is always a rare pleasure to a "lauda- 
tor temporis acti." But it is always a dangerous pastime. An incredulous 
present generation is liable to call for "deeds not words," and, with a mean- 
ing smile, remind one that "mendacem memorem esse oportet." 


Let me face and confute this doubting Thomas. I shall not mention 
the diver who swam "all the way across" holding on to the pipe-line, noi 
the boy do i'at that he did not need to make any effort but lay in mid- 
stream a living float for his companions. You might call me a relative of 
the famous Baron. I shall content myself with names not too far away 
for verification. For instance! John Fabacher's attempt to render him- 
self a submarine held the attention and provoked the imitation of the fickle 
mob for a brief space. He procured — we do not say whence, nor would 
we thus publicly even hazard a guess! — a long glass tube, and with one 
end tightly grasped in his mobile mouth and the other projecting periscope- 
wise above the water's brim, propelled himself across the lake "all sunk be- 
neath the wave." Now, the form and general contour of this shapely youth 
might make one think of Von Tirpitz' children of the sea, but human sides 
have not steel ribs, and "experto crede Joanni," a gentle prod in the side 
causes an unrush of water that in no wise adds to the pleasure of a sub- 
merged trip. Especially when one takes into consideration the fact that 
reprisals are out of question tince one's tormentor disappears in hot haste 
as soon as his dastardly deed has been perpetrated, nor standeth on the 
order of his going. 

Then there was the prodigious number of times that Charlie Willard 
could circumnavigate the lake. Sixty, did you say? Oh, sham! Memory 
is growing weaker, but I think the total is greater than that. If you doubt 
my facts gaze on the result of this strenuous exercise — his chest expansion 
— and hold your peace. Oh, Tham! 

Who can forget Angelo Boudousquie's graceful diving? Carelessly, he 
would throw a small wooden hoop into the water, and with the utmost ease 
and litheness slip through it. Of course, he had a record as a long distance 
swimmer, but he could not demonstrate this in the lake. In speaking of 
divers, S. J. comes to mind. These were the days when, because of his 
diminutive size he was known as "Skeeter." Two or three of the larger 
boys would take him like a ball and heave him into the air. Up, up, a small 
balloon, then a quick spring, and he came down with a clean dive. 

But let's leave these heroes of the watery way and get back to the 
joy of the general public. Foch and Pershing may have many official dec- 
orations, but where would they be without the doughboys? 

Who can put into words the delicious relief of a swift plunge after a 
hot, dusty, squabbly baseball game ? Let's go back to the small yard when 
custom had not staled its novelty. The sharp staccato whistle, the swift 
run down the hill, the swifter shedding of "the slough of nameless colours." 


Now the prayer has been said, and eager young bodies make "a bright and 
delicate flush between the grey-blue water and the grey-blue sky." Again 
the sharp whistle and the headlong plunge into crystal depths ! 

Now, a crowded swim has many pleasures : There are so many heads 
to "duck," so many geniuses with a touch of the bizarre in their nature, to 
propose tricks of an unusual kind. Witness Nordlle Roth's plunge from 
the overhanging branches of a sentinel pine, and Oldham's attempt to crawl 
through the vent to the water-wheel. But to gather the full solace of a 
swim, it must take place at night, alone, with only the stars as witnesses. 
How can this be done ? Ah ! there are secrets in the laps of the gods which 
only the wise can see ! One I can recall. The sky was brilliant with stars, 
but the encircling woods formed, a dense curtain around the lake, cutting 
out all but direct rays of light. The water as I came down the last flight 
of steps looked like the shining silver mirror used by the mediaeval ladies. 
The air was saturated with the sweetness of early summer. The silence was 
vibrant with the soft sounds of night: the trickling of the water, the frog 
symphony ; the muffled hum of the slowly-revolving water-wheel ! 

I was soon ready, and walked out onto the projecting boards, termed by 
courtesy, a "spring-board," for it would take a goodly sized elephant to 
make them spring! There was a scurry and protesting "chur-r-g!" as a 
bullfrog quitted his moonlight sonata and dived from the bank. 

I looked down, and there, mirrored in the still surface, were the count- 
less blazing fires of the sky above ! I lifted my arms. The brief upward 
flight, the turn, then the glorious rush, the tingling shock, the exquisite 
recoil of the flesh, and the long, smooth rise ! Oh, who can put into harsh 
words the true feeling of this joy? 

As I came to the surface and started toward the center of the pool, a 
ripple ran before me and rocked the shining stars into a cataclysm, like 
unto the rout that Gabriel shall cause, when to the sound of his trumpet 
the stars shall dance together. 

Then I turned on my back and let the celestial turmoil subside. Above 
the endless blue, below a fathomless gulf. A dead silence around me, broken 
by the gentle purl of the water over my bare shoulder. I seemed to rest 
on softest down, and a kind of disembodied coolness came to me — like a 
sudden release from a long- continued anxiety. 

Slowly, the moon rose behind the silhouetted pines, an alabaster vessel 
full of soft light, and the world seemed to rest in musical harmony as when 

"The wailful sweetness of the violin 
Floats down the iiushed waters of the wind." 


In the great, calm silence the cares and irritation of earth seemed to 
fade into stillness and leave me very near to God. 

"My soul was quitted of death neighbouring swoon 
Who shall not slake her immitigable scars 
Until she hears 'My Sister!' from the moon, 
And take the kindred kisses of the stars." 



3rmmpljattt Smnrrarg 


Y THEME IS AN ANCIENT ONE. Bards have, from time im- 
memorial, chanted the same story. My only claim to originality 
lies in a change of scene and in the names of the dramatis per- 
sonae. My story, to avoid being shunned by everyone as hope- 
lessly old-fashioned and a thing to be avoided, must have all 
three genders represented. 

The hero goes by the name of James Raleigh. He is not handsome, hav- 
ing none of the assets of beauty that some of the more fortunate members 
of his clan possess, and a bountiful share of the liabilities. His grandfather, 
Tim O'Reilly, followed the essential and useful, but socially incompetent, 
profession of laying bricks. His father, Patrick, the pioneer of a long line 
of honorable Patricks, had, at a tender age, began to cast his eyes about 
him. He perceived, while still young, that bricklaying, while a good thing 
in a commercial way, an enormous asset to architecture, and an employment 
that, properly and skillfully done would wring reluctant words of praise and 
material favors from the foremen, was not an occupation that, even if the 
highest pinnacle of skill in it was obtained, would bring forth a pressing in- 
vitation from the Van Courtlands to spend the week-end with them at 
their Long Island summer home. So he resolved that a benedict would he 
be to the time-honored traditions of his forefathers. He prevailed upon his 
father to send him to one of the famous New England universities to study 
law. At the university the coolness with which the scions of "the best 
people" met his fraternal advances only strengthened his belief that a day 
laborer's social position was not one of the hisrhest, and fortified his deter- 
mination to invade the sacred circles of the higher strata of humanity. He 
graduated with honor, and lost no time in rutting out his placard. For a 
few years, times were hard, but his ready Celtic wit, backed by the still 
more Celtic determination to succeed, gradually cleared a path for him, 
and, at the age of twenty-five he found himself one of the foremost criminal 
lawyers in the country. 

TWAS THEN that he began to cast his eyes around for a helpmeet and 
adviser. Rosalie Winburn, a wealthy young debutante, could find no 
objection to linking her destinies with his own, as she told him with a ten- 
der smile, except the too-Irish, and, as a consequence, the too-ordinary 


sound of his name. Patrick had no affection for relinquishing a cognomen 
bearing which he had ascended to such heights, but when she told him, 
with a cold glance, that all would be over otherwise, as the idea of being 
known as Mrs. Reilly was not to be entertained for a moment, he made no 
further ado, but hastened to the legislature, and, a month later, they agreed 
to bide their days together. He was content only to chop the '0'," as his 
father had done, but was known as Raleigh. 

Thus it happened that, although James inherited his father's looks, 
the atmosphere in which he spent the earlier part of his eventful life was 
much different. 

OUR STORY OPENS upon the hero. He is seated in the breakfast room, 
at 11 o'clock in the morning as are all these young men that are for- 
tunate enough to be born in luxury, and he placidly scans the morning 
paper, gazing with bored eyes at the shrieking headlines, which depict the 
sufferings of the downtrodden Belgians ; his interest picks up a bit at the 
tale of some particularly atrocious deed, and he swears in a gentlemanly 
way at the rude noise made by a passing troop of cavalry that, with pre- 
sumptious disregard, clatters by. Enter Patrick. 

"Well, son, did you enjoy the A. 0. H. banquet last night," he inquired. 

"Pater," the loving son replied, "the thing was so beastly slow, that if 
it had not been for the sake of appearances, I should certainly have gone to 
sleep." Patrick opened his eyes in amaze. He himself had departed from 
most of the beaten paths of his ancestors, but he had always held every- 
thing sacred concerning the race of which he claimed to be so proud, and 
now his son was not, only refusing to believe the brotherhood a thing worth 
while, but he was also taking no pains whatever to conceal it from his 

* * * 

■p HE SCENE IS A K. C. HUT in one of the great cantonments. The 
A room is crowded with soldiers, and particularly is that section crowded 
around the piano, where the lively strains of a "good old American rag" are 
tumbling forth. Sonorous voices, with more regard to volume than to tune, 
but ringing with good-cheer, fill the air. The pianist arises after a time, 
and moves over to the coffee counter, where he lingers long after he has 
drunk his cup, in earnest conversation with one of the workers, who does 
not seem aristocratic in the least until his arm is clutched by a little red- 
haired Sammie, who wants to teach him that new step. The laughing pian- 
ist finally accedes, and as he turns around, his face is seen for the first 
time— it is James Reilly, or Raleigh as he is known out of camp, son of 
the famous lawyer! 



The scene shifts to a tiny chapel around the corner. The priest is pro- 
nouncing the last words of the marriage ceremony. A soft silence pervades 
the dimly lit sanctuary. The last word is spoken, the priest bestows his 
blessing, and Sergeant O'Reilly, U. S. A., and Frances MacGuire, A. R. C, 
are man and wife. Alas ! he has shattered his mother's and father's rosiest 
dreams by thus following the bidding of his own heart, he has helped com- 
plete a vast cycle of evolution, and the world is now ready for another brick- 
layer ! 

(gljoBta nf §?0t?rimg 

They come in the silence dread and lone, 

And gather round my bed, 
When night has spread her sable pall, 

And twilight last gleam's fled. 
They come, the ghosts of yesterday, 

To hold dominion there, 
Within my chamber cold and dark, 

Till morn's dawning fair. 

They speak to me of bygone days, 

Of friends I knew full well, 
My youthful love comes back once more, 

In happiness then I dwell. 
I rove, a gay and careless child, 

With those I loved at play. 
Ah ! how I long again to live 

With the ghosts of yesterday. 

So come, dear ghosts of yesterday, 

Refresh my mind again, 
With visions of the happy past, 

Ere I knew aught of pain. 
Come tell me of my youthful love, 

Who from this earth has flown 
Unto a land beyond the skies, 

Where care is all unknown. 

— W. BOHEN. A.B. '19 


Ifmrirs in HBuflt 



had not enlisted in the service of his country. Was he not a 
well-to-do man, at the ripe age, and had he not often shown his 
courage in college sports and made a name for himself in that 
very line? Well, since he had such capability, why had he not 
plunged into this great adventure with alacrity ? 

John Wintersmith began to be conscious of meaning looks and slight- 
ing words, which were cast at him by unthinking people. This happened 
day after day, and caused him a great amount of discomfort. To be looked 
upon by nearly every passer-by as a coward or slacker was indeed grating 
on the nerves. He withstood all of these torments, only because he had to 
remain like he was now, to obtain a certain object, which he had in view. 
And to obtain it, he would undergo anything, even death ! 

The Wintersmith house — or mansion, I should call it — is built on the 
same order of a typical Southern home. It had the tall, white columns, 
with the large and spacious piazza, which described a semi-circle about the 
house; the large French windows, and the small porch on the second floor. 
To the rear was a two-story structure, which was for the purpose of hous- 
ing servants and automobiles. Straight to the front was a moderate-sized 
boathouse. There were wire-encircled tennis courts. This place was about 
seventy miles from New York. 

JOHN WINTERSMITH had returned to his home at the regular hour for 
supper. Mr. Grimms of the Secret Service, awaited him. An earnest 
conversation ensued for half an hour, which ended by Mr. Grimms giving 
Wintersmith a small, ordinary note-book, and thereupon took his departure. 
Wintersmith, having eaten a quick and light supper, settled down in an 
easy chair to think deeply of some plans. The more he thought, the more 
enthusiastic he became until he dozed off into dreams, in his chair, with a 
complacent smile on his countenance. 

It was a rude awakening from his bright dreams, when his father 
shook him and informed him that it was time he was going. Wintersmith 
was disgruntled at first, but quickly his spirits rose as he remembered 
the visit of Mr. Grimms. He got up, put on light wraps, and did the same 
thing he had done for the past two months — i e., go to the boat-house, 
start the motor boat, which had an anti-aircraft gun on its forward and 



only deck, emerge on the ocean, going straight out for about two hundred . 
vards, then following the beach to the left. There was such an air of "eager-" " 
ness about him that he did not feel lonesome, as usual, but spent all of his 
energy scanning the pale, moon-lit sky. .-..-- 

John Wintersmith might have "chugged along" for an hour, before his 
faultless watch yielded to his sight something that made his heart leap - 
with excitement. Dimly outlined against the starry heavens was the dark 
form of a large and curiously shaped dirigible. Was this the machine that 
he was to put out of commission forever? He was not sure, so he strained 
his alert eyes to catch any sign of signaling. He had not long to. wait. Pres- 
ently the dirigible gave out flashes of red and white lights. This continued 
for some time, and Wintersmith had not been idle. He had taken out the 
notebook given him by Mr. Grimms, and had followed nearly every letter 
of the message. The dirigible was undoubtedly assisting the enemy, and . : 
had been signaling to some lurking U-boat. Upon realizing this, Winter--* 
smith jumped to the anti-aircraft gun and so suddenly did he send a" hot 
stream of bullets into the "sausage'Mike machine, that it did not even get a ?— 
chance to flee before it was bursting into flames. Down came the meteor-.'- • 
like dirigible to utter destruction, and it sank beneath the waves before 
Wintersmith could get within fifty yards of the wreckage. Was his task 
over? Could he go home and sleep now? No! Did not the unseen U-boat 
receive the message which might mean death to thousands of young Amer- 
ican soldiers on their way to fight? Wintersmith turned sharply and sped 
for home. Having put the motor boat in its proper place, he ran toward the 
house, but did not enter. He ran around the house to the rear, only to re- 
appear immediately in a speed car, turning a few curves putting him on 
a straight road, and he "let it out !" Time was scarce, for he had only five 
minutes to catch a train to New York at a station, one mile and a quarter 
distant. It was just at the break of dawn when he drew up at the station 
platform and ran to catch the moving train, succeeding in doing so only by 
a narrow margin. 

JOHN WINTERSMITH was now elevated to the sixth floor of one of 
New York's middle-class hotels. Arriving there, he hastened down the 
hallway to Room 607, and knocked loud, and for some time before arous- 
ing Mr. Grimms. Eventually, Mr. Grimms awoke and opening the door 
a fraction, peered through with heavy eyelids, which immediately became 
enlivened when he saw who his visitor was. Admitting Wintersmith, he 
began to dress, asking him questions in a hurried manner. Had he suc- 
ceeded ? Had he caught the spy or spies ? Wintersmith told everything in 
detail to Mr. Grimms, for he was his "boss," and to him everything was to 


be reported. Having done this, Wintersmith asked to be relieved of further 
service on account of the estrangement which he was put in by not wearing 
a uniform. Mr. Grimms told him that it was not in his power to release 
him, but that he would put in a good word for him, and on account of this 
bravery and persistency, which he had shown in his recent undertaking, 
that he thought he would be granted any reasonable request in that line. 

JOHN WINTERSMITH was "on an edge" for three days, when at last a 
letter came. It was one of those Government envelopes that bear no 
stamp, but read "Official business ; penalty for private use $300." Surely, 
this was what he was waiting for ! Eagerly, he tore it open ! A letter from 
the President, complimenting him on his good fortune, because he had been 
"Sighted for gallantry in action !" and stated that he would probably receiv e 
a medal for his actions ! And, to wind up his triumph, he was released from 
further duty in the United States Secret Service. 

John Wintersmith, Second Class Seaman, U. S. Navy, was to be seen 
wearing a medal for bravery, in a sailor's suit, from that day on ! He had 
not only been exonerated, but had been praised before the world. 

iCtmttg g>tjrittprB 

Honour to those who lie, 

At rest, beneath a foreign sky. 

Right that they win the tears, 

And gloried acclamation of the years, 

But — there are others : 
Broken and weaken'd, maimed in such hideous ways, 
They will return to drag out shattered days, 

They gave bravely all they day to give, 
Think, just of the lives they'll have to live, 

Battle-scarred brothers. 

When the war's ended, 
Citizen, this is a job for you, 
What are you going to do ? 

Look at these wounded men ; blind, crippl'd, lame, 
What's their reward? Just a brief season's fame, 
Is that their lot, 
Is it all to be forgot ? 

This must be mended. 

These are your heroes equal with the dead 

Who suffered once, these suffer every day. 

It was for you these also strove and bled, 

And Justice calls to you to smooth the way. 

— s. L. 

®Ij? g>prtngljtUtan 

VOL. XI. JUNE, 1919 No. 4 

loarfc nf ©nitons— 191B-19 


Edt(or-in-Chief: T. HAILS 
Junior Editor: M.'BURKE 

Alumni Editor: W. HARTWELL College Locals: G. SCHWEGMAN 
Exchange Editor: J/ KOPECKY Chronicle: A. CROCI 

-, Associate Editors: V. JMAHONEY, H. MAHORNER 
Business Manager: 

Ed. a. Strauss 

Advertising Manager: M. VlCKERS Circulation Manager; W. CURREN 

Artist: JOHN FABACHER Athletics: S. REYNAUD 



Convenience in transportation is one of the essentials of the hour. As 
many of us are\about to leave these halls forever, we can take lesson from 
that prince of old who wished to bring his libraries with, him on his journey. 
Unable to do^iso, he had all his learning condensed into three volumes. 

..I ..£ 

These were still too cumbersome for the camel's back, so he had them epi- 
tomized into three sentences which would serve him as maxims throughout 
life. We can do better still, and sum up our years of training in the three 
letters — S. H. C. "S," we must remember, stands for Esprit or Spirit, for 
we must ever have the spim of Spring Hill with us. The second letter will 
remind us of the High Ideals we have been taught to respect and imbibe, 
and let "C," which stands for College, make us ever mindful of the loyalty 
wc owe it — our Alma Mater. 

— T. HAILS, A.B. '19 


Top Row (Loft to Rinht) — T. HAILS. Editor-in-Chief J. KOPECKY. Exchanpre Chief 

G. SCH.WEGMAN, College Notes Chief W. HARTWELL, Alumni Chief 

A. CROCI, Chronicle Chief E. STRAUSS, Business Chief 



Spring Hill has certainly been favored by the War Department in the 
appointment of Commandants. A very able and worthy successor to Lieu- 
tenant Braund has been found in the person of Captain Frank L. Culin, Jr. 
Although but a short time among us, he has won universal favor, uniting in 
a very marked degree kindliness of manner with strict attention to dis- 

Graduating from the University of Arizona in 1916 with the degree of 
M. S. and Mining Engineering, he was commissioned on November 30 of 
the same year as Provisional Second Lieutenant of Infantry in the Regu- 
lar Army. He was then stationed at Army Service School, Fort Leaven- 
worth, Kansas. Assigned to the Thirtieth Infantry, he served with that 
regiment at Eagle Pass, Texas ; Syracuse, N. Y. ; Camp Green, N. C, and in 
France. Leaving the United States on February 27, 1918, he returned as 
instructor on October 9. During his stay over there he took part in Aisne- 
Marne defensive last May and June ; participated in the Marne defensive in 
July, and in the Aisne-Marne offensive July and August. He was in the St. 
Mihiel and the Meuse Argonne drives in September. On his return he was 
instructor in engineering at Central Officers' Training School, Camp Lee, 
Virginia, and in the Infantry Officers' School at the same camp. 

He was made First Lieutenant of Infantry on November 30, 1916, and 
Captain of Infantry on August 3 of the following year. His commission 
in the regular army was made permanent on February 4 last. 

With so distinguished a career behind him, we cannot but expect that 
his success will be crescendo. 

— H. MAHORNER, A.B. '21 


A. J. CROCI, A.B. '23 

April 16 — Varsity plays Mobile Southern League. 

20 — Varsity plays Mobile Shipbuilding Co. 

25 — Varsity plays Marion Institute at Marion. 

26 — Varsity plays Marion Institute two games at Marion. 
May 1 — Varsity plays Tulane University at Monroe Park. 

2 — Varsity plays Tulane University two games at Monroe Park. 

3 — Junior Varsity plays Wrights. 

4 — Varsity plays Sample Shoe Co. 
11 — Junior Varsity plays Albright & Wood. 
32 — Rev. Fr. Kearns addresses Knights of Columbus. 
13 — S. H. C. takes part in the celebration for the homecoming of the 

Rainbow Division. 
15 — S. H. C. takes part in Confederate Veterans' Reunion parade. 
15 — Varsity plays Tulane University at New Orleans. 
16 — Varsity plays Tulane University two games at New Orleans. 
20 — Varsity plays Fort Morgan. 
24 — Junior Varsity plays Moss Point High. 
June 1 — A. M. : Varsity plays Jesuits High two games. 
P. M. : Elocution contest held in K. of C. hut. 

2 — Varsity plays Auburn. 

3 — Varsity plays Auburn two games at Monroe Park. 

7 — Yenni Literary Circle presents "All the Comforts of Home." 

8 — Oratorical contest held in K. of C. hut. 
15 — Baccalaureate sermon, to graduates, by Rev. Fr. E. Sands. 
16 — Annual examinations. 
18 — Commencement exercises at Battle House Auditorium. 



On the evening of May 12, a farewell reception was 
CHANGE OF given to our former commandant, Lieutenant Braund, 
COMMANDANTS who, after three years of faithful service to Uncle Sam, 
is to receive his discharge. Rev. Father President, in 
the name of the faculty and students, presented the departing officer with 
a beautiful gold watch, and at the same time welcome our new comman- 
dant, Captain F. Culin, Jr. Both officers responded briefly. Lieutenant 
Braund stated that he was well pleased with the work of the year, and 
that he would always cherish the memory of Spring Hill. Captain Culin 
replied that he would do all in his power to help develop the good work 
which his predecessor had so well begun, and preserve the esteem and loy- 
alty of Spring Hill's faculty and students. 


On May 31, the solemn reception of the Sodality of the 

SODALITY Immaculate Conception was held in the College chapel 

RECEPTION at 6:30 a.m. Owing to the fact that the Rev. Father 

Provincial was unable to attend the ceremonies, Rev. 

Father F. McDonnell, the Moderator of the Senior Sodality, delivered the 

sermon and received the successful postulants. 

The Senior Band deserves the highest praise for the 
SENIOR stirring martial music which it has given to us in drill 

BAND practice during the last session. The band has prob- 

ably been the best that the college has had for years. 
We sincerely hope that they will continue their excellent work the next 

During the past session the Spring Hill unit of the R. 
PARADES 0. T. C. had the opportunity of twice parading in Mo- 

bile. On the homecoming of the Rainbow Division, 
che guard of honor, for the returned heroes, was composed of Spring Hill 
students. The entire corps of Spring Hill cadets took part in the parade 
for the Confederate Veterans' Reunion on May 15. As the students marched 
up Government street, they were greeted with loud applause and cheers. 

The annual elocution contest was held on June 1, in the 

ELOCUTION K. of C. hut. The gold medal in the collegiate course 

CONTEST was merited by Dennis Curren. The second place was 

awarded to Oscar Bienvenu, with Joseph Bannon com- 


ing third. In the High School Department, the gold medal was merited by 
Robert Simpson. The second place was awarded to Louis Mulherin, with 
Angelo Croci coming third. The judges were Fr. E. L. Sands, Mr. W. J. 
Young and Mr. R. E. Gordon. 

On Saturday, June 7, the Yenni Literary Circle pre- 

ACADEMY sented "All the Comforts of Home." Generous applause 

PLAY greeted the players throughout the entire performance. 

All who witnessed the play pronounced it a success. 

The performance was characterized throughout by fine acting. Music was 

rendered between the acts by the college orchestra. 

On Sunday, June 8, for the first time in several years, 
ORATORICAL an oratorical contest was held in the K. of C. hut. The 
CONTEST gold medal was awarded to Edward Strauss. The judges 

were Rev. E. J. Hackett, Judge D. R. Edington, Judge N. R. Leigh. 

The usual baccalaureate sermon was given by Rev. E. 
BACCALAUREATE L. Sands on Sunday, June 1, in the college chapel. His 
SERMON oration, whether considered from an avocational or pa- 

triotic standpoint, was an unusually inspiring one. 

On June ] 8 the Eighty-ninth Commencement Exercises 
EIGHTY-NINTH of Spring Hill College were held in the Battle House 
COMMENCEMENT Auditorium. Owing to post-war conditions, the cere- 
monies were simple and austere. Music was rendered 
by the College Orchestra. Col. John P. Sullivan of New Orleans, addressed 
the graduates. 


Apropos of Nothing 

Castagnos — No more Latin, no more Greek, no more sitting on a dirty 
old bench. What's the matter? Don't that rhyme ? 

Some sage says swimming superinduces slimness. Simpson sees, says 
"So?" seaward. Simpson splashes, swallowing saline sodas. Sad stuff; 
Simpson succumbed. Sharks settled Simpson. 

It is reported in the Thibodaux Tattler that Robichaux and Julian El- 
tinge are one and the same. 


Professor (translating) — And the ignorant country jay — what are you 
blushing about, Flautt? 

Can you imagine Reynaud standing at present^arms with a baby on his 
shoulder. Yet, it happened. Ask the 167th. 


According to the academy play, it is an ordinary sight to see Mahoney 
with a milk bottle in one hand and a paper of safety pins in the other. 


Speaking of the academy play, don't you think that Bacquie's acting 
was very natural ? Some say that it was a very easy part for him to take. 

When somebody asked Dick Inge how tall he was, he replied: "You 
mean how short am I ? I am four feet and one inch above sea level." 


McKenna was having a heated argument with some invisible antag- 
onist in his sleep. In the course of it, McKenna stated, "She works at 
Kress', I tell you — not at Woolworth's." 

Blaze — Say, Dirt, let's go to the lake. 

Dirt — I can't ; I haven't been properly introduced ; besides, today isn't 
che first of the month. 


Castagnos — Hartwell, go learn the manual of arms. 

Hartwell — I know it; if you don't believe it, ask (lady's name 

withheld by censor). 

The Toper's Lament 

All day I sit and think and think, how can I drink the fizzless drink ! 


What bonehead in our Congress chair, conceived the plan beneath his 

That on a certain fateful morn, our good old friend, John Barleycorn, 
Would languish in his lair ? 

Ah, pretty soon, 1 wot and ween, they'll find a kick in gasoline, 
And flivver's will stand still. 

why must I unwilling turn, to the soda fount in sooth to earn, 
A little of refreshment rare, when wont to drape a barroom chair, 
An honest beer or three to take, and feverish thirst thus nicely slake. 
But now 'tis Bevo fore'ermore, so the good wiseacres in congress swore 
Ah ! woe is me ! All joy in life, was taken in that bone-dry strife ! 

Spring Hill was honored the other day by a visit from Paul Gammil, 
B.S. '20, who only dropped in for a few minutes, and then went back to 


Byrne made a very convincing speech in oratory class the other day. 
It ran something like this: "Suppose some firemuns wuz trying to put 
out a fire, and wasted sum hose. Er, er, er, I fink we should buy some 

Of late it has been noticed that a number of the girls in Mobile are 
getting to like "vinegar." For information, ask Anderson. 

There once was a guy named Flautt, 
Whose cerebral matter was naught, 
And the prefects all wondered, 
And the teachers all pondered 
How a natural ass could be taught. 

Professor — Mahorner, what do you know about the marks of the 
church? Now, don't sit there and look foolish. How do you expect to pass 
a second lieutenant's examination if you can't tell me the marks of the 
church ? 

Mahoney says that he got tired of Quinlan Hall and left. 

Gianelloni's ideas of beauty change with the weather. We know be- 
cause we saw his companion one rainy day. 


Rodrigue (to Charlet) — Say, where are you going ? 
Charlet — I'm going and get a change of scenery. 
Rodrigue — Where ? 
Charlet — I'm going down to the lake and take a bath. 

Alexis — Say, Schweg, they tell me that Dugas was kidding you this 

Schwegman — Well, what can you do against the jawbone of an ass? 

The "Banana Boat" laden with a big "Load," will arrive with a "Sweet 
Papa from Italy." 

Latest song by Crane : "I'm always chasing Shirckles." 

Hartwell — I knew my girl since she wore socks. 
D'Antoni — Aw, that's nothing, she wears them yet! 

Home (in exam.) — Lord, if you can't help me, please don't help Hails. 

Why is Schwegmann so down-hearted lately? He didn't Court — right. 

LOST — "Small change," bearing marks of Mahoney. Found by Kean. 

Simpson claims that his rifle was reported dirty, because Castagnos 
saw his face in it. 

Pete says: "If I hadn't missed him, I would have hit him. 

'Tis true that history repeats itself. Pete, of vinegar fame, demon- 
strated again. After inserting 27 cubic inches of Skinner's ice cream in 
that cadaverous aperture, vaguely termed as "mouth," he asked for more. 


Wonderful Happenings 

Teeder got two hits. 
Long smole a smile. 
Walsdorf almost smole a smile. 
Reynaud did an exercise. 
Major was seen twice without Olivier. 
Guerra actually showed up for drill. 


The question has come up: Will this nation-wide dry law apply to 
May? We hope so. 

The visit of the human spider to Mobile reminded us that we had a 
few "human" things ourselves in the High School: 

The Human Tank — Putman. 

The Human Cloud — May. 

The Human Grunt — Lip (camouflaged). 

The Human Needle — Berthier. 

The Human Bale of Hay — Acereto. 

The Human Crab — Plenty of 'em. 

The Human (Excuse us. Hogan don't like to appear in public). 


We hear that Thompson and Hyronemus are thinking of taking up Red 
Cross work this summer. All success to them ! We know they'll make out 
well in charitable organizations, for they certainly made a hit with the 
"young ones" this year. 


And as to summer occupations. Long has landed a beaut. In an adver- 
tising demonstration schem-j for a New Orleans undertaking establishment 
he is to play the part of the deceased. 


Bowman (in class) — Father, how do they photograph the moon, by 


We've seen some mean tricks played, but the one who pulled off that 
smoker and gave out real cigars indiscriminately in the K. of C. hut cer- 
tainly had a funny sense of humor. What about it, Fitz? 

Reports say that Chesty and Red were also "fumigated" that night. 

Semmes says he never was on a May bath yet. Why mention "May" 
baths. Don't use adjectives when not necessary. 


At a High School Game 

She— Oh! Who's that catching? 

He— That's Fats. 

She— Oh ! Isn't he lovely. But why did he let that ball hit his head ? 

He — Used his brains. That backstop breaks up balls, but his head is 

She — Oh, that pitcher is so graceful! What was that? 

He — A three-base hit. 

She — Did the pitcher mean it ? 

He — Surely. He hit that fellow's bat hard on purpose. 

She — Oh, why do they put a red flag in right field ? 

He — That's not a red flag: that's Shanahan. 

She — Oh, I think that shortstop is just too cute for anything! Why 
does he throw that ball to first plate? He stopped it. Isn't that his out? 

He — Well, if it was one bounce, it's one out. Two bounces, two out. 

She — Now, we're up ! Why does that man swing his bat? 

He — It might happen to hit the ball. 

She — Oh, what a hit! Was it a home run? 

He — Certainly! That's why he stayed on first base. 

She — Oh, that's mean ; he ran down when nobody was looking ! Look ! 
He only hit the ball ten feet. Isn't that poor ? 

He— No ! That's a bunt. 

She — Was that a strike out when Putman slid into second? 

He — No ! It looked more like a touchdown. 

After the game Thompson introduces "she" to the "graceful pitcher." 

Mary loved her little lamb, 

They never had a fuss. 
But these lovers weren't in it 

With Owen Schweers and Gus. 

Dan Hardie's excuse for being so young: "Things don't grow old in 
Miami. They stay the same from year to year." 

"You are mine," said the hero, "till the stars grow cold, till Dempsey 
gets a hit; till Major keeps a rule." I guess she's his, all right. 

Provosty says he's going to bring a new student from New Roads next 
year. Is he the mayor or the fire department? 

Augusta papers always run good write-ups for local talent in their 


sporting pages, but after June 18, we think the papers won't need to talk. 
The "crowd" will be there to do its own talking, and we place our money on 
them. Make room ! 


Jack and Jill went up the hill, 

Laughing all the way. 
No wonder that they laughed so loud — 
They saw the first league play. 
The Putman-Dempsey-Marston Confectionery Co. has received its char- 
ter. In the new firm, Putman has the duty of testing all samples of the 
company's output. 

Physics Professor — Now, the periscope is a long, tube-like affair, 
through which one can easily see — " 
O'Shee— Just like Glynn. 


Blake (at music counter in Kress') — Have you "Milking Time at Eve"? 
Irate Saleslady — You fresh thing! Do I look like I live in the country? 


"Say, that's fierce ! What is it? Poison gas?" 

"No ! Worse than that. It's the half dozen big yard fellows that root 
against the High School." 

(Wanted — A strong undertaker). 

What the "May Bath" Brought Out 

Metzger is a fish. 

J. Druhan is a fishlet. 

Acereto is a fishball. 

Trudeau is a crab. 

Schmidt is a clam. 

In the pretty bathing suit contest, J. P. Cooney took first prize, with 
A. Burguieres a close second. Guerra won the golden thimble for being the 
most graceful diver. 

Old Truths Retold 

Birds of Augusta flock together. 
He who laughs last get.-; raught. 

A Major on post is worth two in the yard. 



'66 It was with great regret that we learned of the death of one of 
Spring Hill's oldest alumni, William A. Semmes, A.B. '66, of whom 
the following words are spoken in the account of his death : "A loving hus- 
band and father, a kindly neighbor and a true friend is gone. He is missed 
by scores." The Springhillian extends its sincerest sympathy to his rela- 
tives and numerous friends. 

'77 Justice Paul Leche, A.B. '77, was lately honored by his many friends 
and the bar association upon his retirement from the Supreme Court 
of Louisiana. 

'89 The account herewith produced concerning a former Spring Hill 
student, Colonel W. Kelly, A.B. '89, fills us with the greatest 
pleasure and pride : 



Colonel William Kelly, Jr., son of Captain William Kelly of Brownsville, awarded 
the Distinguished Service Medal by the president, today received the honor at the hands 
of the Secretary of War. 

Colonel Kelly is assistant adjutant general of the army, and during the absence of 
Adjutant General Harris, is in charge of the department. 

The Distinguished Service Medal, as its name implies, is awarded for extraordinary 
services. Colonel Kelly was one of the staff officers who had the gigantic task of re- 
organizing the National Guard and merging it into the army, and it was largely due 
to him that the readjustment was made quickly and smoothly as it was. It was no doubt 
in recognition of this that the D. S. M. was awarded him. 

Colonel Kelly was born in Brownsville forty-six years ago. He was educated in 
Brownsville schools, at the Spring Hill Jesuit College, Mobile, Alabama, and at West 

'99 Dr. Walter Scott, ex-A.B. '99, paid us a visit, after having been 
mustered out of overseas service. Spring Hill is always glad to see 
her old boys, and we hope to see them often. 

'07 Mr. Sidney Simon was married to Miss Cecile Lichtbach on April 30. 
The Springhillian wishes the happy couple every felicitation. 


'07 Spring Hill was not without a representative in the Rainbow Divis- 
ion when they returned to Mobile, for when the Alabama 167th 
came in, Joe O'Leary, A.B. '07, was with them, and had been with them in 
every engagement in which the famous fighting division took part. We 
want to thank him for the visit he paid us on that day. 

'09 T. Semmes Walmsley, ex-A.B. '09, has been appointed Assistant At- 
torney General for Louisiana. He has but lately been mustered out 
of the overseas aerial service. The Springhillian extends its congratula- 
tions to him on his appointment. 

'14 Andrew Douglas, A.B. '14, visited us a short time ago. He still re- 
tains his commission in the navy. 

'15 The marriage of Mr. Archibald J. Grefer, A.B. '15, to Miss Camille 
Antoine was celebrated June 4. The Springhillian extends its hear- 
tiest congratulations to the happy pair. 

'17 Lieutenant Pearce O'Leary, ex-A.B. '17, paid a visit to the college 
on his way home, after receiving his discharge from overseas ser- 
vice in the field artillery. 

'17 It was with much pleasure that we learn of the success of Clemens 
Rault, ex-B.S. '17. After passing an eight-day examination for dental sur- 
geon in the U. S. navy, he received his commission, and success has come to 
him rapidly, for he has since been promoted to a senior lieutenancy. May 
still greater success crown your efforts, Clemens! 

'17 T. Howard Kelly, B. Litt. '17, has recently returned from France 
and written a new book, the accompanying letter received from him 
being reproduced in full : 
President Spring Hill College: 

Dear Father — It may be of passing interest to yourself and those of the faculty 
who remember me, to learn that I have returned to America, after nineteen months 
spent in France as a member of the A. E. F. My division of the 26th, or Yankee Divis- 
ion of New England, is in camp at Devens, where we await demobilization. My service 
in France included ten months jf continual time spent at the front with our field artil- 
lery. Undoubtedly, you have heard of poor Timothy's death at Chateau Thierry! I 
was fighting almost side by side with his regiment at the time, and arrived at the posi- 
tion of his company only a few hours after his heroic death. We had been trying to 
locate each other for months. It was quite a blow to me. 

I escaped luckily, with a slight wound in my right leg. My health was excellent, 
despite the terrible living conditions that surrounded us constantly. 


When the war started, or shortly afterwards when I left Mobile with the B. Litt. 
that Spring Hill honored me with, I enlisted as a private in a battalion composed of 
Brown University students. They were wonderful comrades and pals throughout the 
"guerre" I became a sergeant after many months, but a commission didn't come my 
way. In many ways, I am glad that I went through it all as "one of 'em," for I had a 
real chance to know many men and the war from an intimate viewpoint. As a result of 
my experiences, I have written a book, "What Outfit, Buddy?" It is now in the hands 
of Harper Brothers. They may or may not publish it. In case it is published I shall 
be glad to send you a copy. 

Perhaps some of my professors are still at Spring Hill. If so, give them my best 
regards. With best wishes to you and anyone who may know me, sincerely, 


Battery C, 103 F. A. 

'22 John d'Aquin, ex-A.B. '22, has taken up medicine at Tulane. 
Charles Coyle, ex-A.B. '22, is at Tulane continuing his studies. 
Joseph Dempsey, ex-A.B. '22, is at Loyola, in New Orleans. 





April 6— Spring Hill 4, All Stars 3 
On April 6, Herb Kelly's aggregation of Texas and Southern Leaguers was de- 
feated for the second time this season. "Buck" Jones, Mobile recruit, was on the mound 
for the All-Stars, and pitched excellent ball until the tenth inning, when Spring Hill 
won the game on drives by Allen and Robinson, followed by a timely single by Crane. 
The- box score: 

All Stars— 

AB. R. H. 

C. Kelly, 3b 3 10 

Benedict, c 3 2 

H. Kelly, cf 4 

Untz, ss 4 11 

Ery, If 5 11 

Goodbrad, lb 5 2 

Roos, 2b 2 

E. Kelly, rf 5 1 

Jones, p 3 











S. Hill- 

AB. R.H. PO. 

Gannon, ss 5 10 8 

Allen, cf 5 2 2 1 

Walet, 3b 5 2 2 

Robinson, 2b 3 12 

D'Antoni, rf 4 2 

Crane, lb 5 16 

Reed, If 3 10 

Bannon, c 2 10 9 

Toups, p 3 10 

*Curren 1 




Totals 34 3 7 28 13 4 

Totals 34 4 7 30 12 3 

Summary — Two-base hits — Walet, Goodbrad. Sacrifice hits — Jones, Benedict, Rob- 
inson, Bannon. Stolen bases — C. Kelly, Goodbrad, H. Kelly, Gannon, Robinson, Allen. 
Struck out — by Toups 7, by Jones 6. Double play — Gannon (unassisted). Umpires — 
Johnson and Queen. 

April 9— Spring Hill 17, U. of Ala. Medicals 

This game was a walk-away, featured by the slugging of Allen and Curren. Crane, 
I he twirler for Spring Hill, allowed only three hits to the visitors, and was followed to 
the mound by "Sally" D'Antoni. The latter hit a home run over the left field fence. 
Box score: 

AB. R.H. PO. A. E. 
5 12 12 

S. Hill- 
Gannon, ss 

Allen, cf 5 2 4 

Curren, lb 5 4 4 9 2 

Robinson, 2b 2 1 3 U 

S. D'Antoni, p 12 1110 

B. D'Antoni, 2b-rf 3 2 12 

Reed, If 3 110 

Bannon, c 4 3 2 7 10 

McEvoy, 3b 4 12 1 

Crane, p 2 12 110 

Ala. Med. Col. AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Blue, 3b 4 12 1 

Roeugh, lb 4 2 4 11 

Jones, cf 3 10 

Cater, p 3 12 

Wainright, If 3 110 

Davis, c 3 110 

Cobb, rf 10 10 1 

McGraw ,rf 2 

Christopher, 2b 2 13 10 

Neal, 2b 10 

Sewell, ss 3 111 

Totals 34 17 19 21 8 3 

Totals 29 6 17 6 7 



Summary — Two-base hits — Crane, Curren, Roeugh. Home run — S. D'Antoni. 
Struck out — by Crane 6, by Cater 7. Bases on balls — Off Cater 3. Umpire — Castagnos- 

April 16 — Mobile Southern League 7; Spring Hill 

On the Wednesday following our victory over the Mobile Bears we went down in 
defeat, owing to the crippled condition of our team — Curren playing first, filling in the 
gap caused by Crane's sprained ankle. Toups, on the mound, had Bill Ellis and "Red" 
Day facing him, both of whom rank very high in Southern League pitching circles. In 
the entire nine inning; the Bears failed to earn a single run. Despite the 7-to-0 score, 
the game was by no means a one-sided affair. The Mobilians secured only five hits, 
and one of them was of the scratch variety. Taking all into consideration, we do not 
feel disgraced by being defeated by a Southern League team. The box score: 

S. Hill— AB.R.H.PO.A.E. 

Gannon, ss 4 4 3 2 

Allen, cf i _ 4 12 

Walet, 3b 4 110 3 

Robinson, 2b 3 14 1 

D'Antoni, rf _ 3 10 

Curren, lb 3 11 

Reed, If - _ 3 110 

Bannon, c -: 3 6 1 

Toups, p r 3 10 4 2 




30 4 27 11 9 

Summa, cf _ 5 

McMillan, ss _ 

Meyers, 2b 

Brown, lb 

Ducote, If 

Roland, If 

Untz, 3b _ 

Coleman, c 

Day, p 

Ellis, p 




Totals _ _36 7 5 27 11 2 

Summary — Two-base hits — Walet, Ducote, Summa, Untz. Sacrifice hits — McMil- 
lan. Brown. Stolen bases — Meyers, Roland, Colemand. Double plays — Toups to Cur- 
ren; Meyers to McMillan to Brown. Struck out — By Day 8, by Ellis 4, by Toups 4. 
Bases on balls— Off Toups 2. Hit by pitched ball— Toups 1 (Meyers). Hits— Off Ellis, 
4, no runs. Umpire — Jones. 

April 25 — Spring Hill 4, Marion 3 

On the twenty-fifth of April, Spring Hill journeyed to Marion, Alabama, to play 
a series with her historic rival, Marion Institute. In the three games played Curren 
and Toups hurled the Spring Hil'dans to victory, winning every game of the series. Cur- 
ren held the Marion team to two hits in the first game, and struck out fourteen men. 
Robinson smashed the ball for a home run in the first game, and duplicated in the third. 
Toups pitched the second game, allowing only one hit. 

Spring Hill scored three runs in the fifth inning. Curren walked and stole second, 
going to third on Gannon's single over third. Allen walked. Robertson drove a hot 
one to Allen on third, who fumbled, and Curren, Allen and Gannon scored with Rob- 
inson's drive to center, and Spring Hill added another score. Marion rallied in the ninth 
inning and succeeded in making three scores. Allen singled and went to third on 
WaJet's error, scoring on Bowman's single. Bowman then stole second and rode home on 
Hawkins' single to left, Hawkins taking second on the throw to the plate, and went to 
third on Argo's bunt. Oliver singled, but Malcolm grounded out, and the game was over. 








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S. Hill— 

AB.R.H. PO.A.E. 

Marion — 

AB.R.H. PO.A.E. 

13 13 2 

Gannon, ss 5 

Allen, cf 3 

Walet, 3b 4 1 

Robinson, 2b 4 112 

Reed, If , 4 

Bannon, c 4 15 1 

D'Anton.i rf 3 10 


Miller, If 4 3 

W. Argo, lb 4 10 

Allen, 3b 3 111 

Bowman, ss 4 

Hawkins, c _.. 4 118 

J. Argo, 2b 4 10 

Oliver, cf 4 12 











10 4 1 

6 27 12 ~5 

Bonds, p 





3 27 




Curren, p 


34 3 



By innings: 


Summary — Home run — Robinson. Stolen bases — D'Antoni (2), Gannon, Robinson, 
Bowman. Sacrifice hit — Allen. Bases on balls — Off Curren 1, off Bonds 2. Struck 
out — By Curren 14, by Bonds 5. Left on bases — Spring Hill 5, Marion 3. Umpires — 
Lovelace and Moore. 

April 26— Spring Hill 7, Marion 1 

In the second game of a double-header on April 26, Toups hurled a tight game for 
Spring Hill, allowing only one hit. Cavey, hurling for Marion, was touched for seven 
hits, and seven runs were scored. Spring Hill scored two runs in the fourth inning on 
two stolen bases, a fielder's choica and a single. Three more runs were added in the 
fifth on succssive hits of Gannon, Allen and Walet; two fielder's choices, and an error 
by Argo. Toups doubled in the sixth, and came in on Gannon's single. Marion scored 
its only run in the third inning, when Miller walked, stole second and came home on 
outs by C. Argo and Allen. The box score: 

S. Hill— AB.R.H. PO.A.E. 

Gannon, ss 4 12 2 2 1 

Allen, cf 4 12 

Walet, 3b 4 11110 

Robinson, 2b 2 2 12 

Reed, If 4 10 10 

Crane, lb 3 8 

D'Antoni, rf 3 2 10 

Bannon ,c 3 18 10 

Toups, p 3 110 2 

AB. R. H. PO. A. E 


Marion — 

Miller, If 

C. Argo, lb 3 9 1 

Allen, 3b 3 10 

Bowman, ss 3 2 5 

Hawkins, c 3 2 

J. Argo, 2b 2 2 

Oliver, cf 3 10 

Malcolm, rf 2 

Carey, p 2 

Totals 31 7 7 21 8 1 

Totals 25 1 1 21 7 1 

By innings: 

Spring Hill 2 4 1 0—7 

Marion 1 0—1 

Summary— Two-base hits — Toups, Bannon. Stolen bases — Gannon 2, D'Antoni 2, 
Robinson, Miller 2, C. Argo 2. Sacrifice hits — Crane. Allen. Bases on balls — Toups 1, 


Carey 3. Struck out — Toups 7, Carey 1. Left on bases — Spring Hill 5, Marion 3. Um- 
pires — Lovelace and Moore. 

April 26— Spring Hill 11, Marion 2 

The third game of the series was a one-sided affair, McDaniels' hurling for Marion 
being knocked out of the box in the third inning, after six runs had been scored. "Lef- 
ty" Bonds, who succeeded him, fared little better. "Bobo" Curren, twirling for Spring 
Hill, allowed five scattered hits, and at no time was he in danger. The box score: 
S. Hill— AB.R.H. PO.A. E. Marion— AM. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Gannon, ss 3 2 12 1 Miller, If 4 12 2 

Allen, cf , 3 2 2 10 C. Argo, lb 3 10 

Walet, 3b 3 2 2 110 Allen, 3b 3 12 

Robinson, 2b 3 3 2 4 2 Bowman, ss 3 110 

Reed, If 3 1110 Hawkins, c 3 3 11 

Crane, lb 4 16 J .Argo, 2b 10 2 1 

D'Antoni, rf 4 3 10 Oliver, cf 3 10 

Bannon, c 4 16 2 Malcolm, rf 5 12 2 

Curren, p 3 110 2 McDaniels, p 1, 10 

Bonds, p 2 110 

Totals 27 11 13 21 9 1 

Totals 28 2 5 21 7 2 

By innings: 

Spring Hill 15 2 3 0—11 

Marion 2 0—2 

Summary — Home run — Robinson. Three-base hit — Curren. Stolen bases — Crane, 
Robinson 3, D'Antoni 2, Walet, Allen, Malcolm 2, J. Argo, Bonds. Sacrifice hit— Walet. 
Bases on Balls — McDaniels 3, Bonds 3, Curren 1. Five hits off McDaniels, with six 
runs in the three innings; eight hits with five runs off Bonds in the four innings. Hit 
by Pitcher — J. Argo. Struck out — Curren 5, McDaniels 2, Bonds 2. Left on bases — 
Spring Hill 4, Marion 5. Umpires — Moore and Lovelace. 

Spring Hill 0, Tulane University 5 

Spring Hill met Tulane on the diamond for the first time in its athletic career. 
Toups of the Hill boys, pitched excellent ball, and with good support would have won the 
game, although outpitched by Swartzkopf. The game was scoreless till the third inning, 
when Wight of Tulane doubled to center field; Nail advanced him to third on a long 
fly to center; Gentling struck out, and Brown grounded to Toups, who threw the ball 
over Crane's head, allowing Wight to score and Brown to take second; Campbell sin- 
gled. Brown going to third, and scoring on Swartzkopf's single to left. Tulane addea 
twomore in the fifth, when D'Antoni dropped Duffy's fly; Wight hit out to Allen; 
Nail singled, anvancing Duffy tj third, and then stole second. In an effort to catch 
Duffy off third, Bannon threw wild to Walet, and Duffy scored. Then Gentling singled 
and brought in Nail. Another run was made in the eighth on errors by Robinson and 

Spring Hill threatened to score in the last of the ninth. Gannon walked and went to 



second on Allen's single. Walet popped up to Wight. Robinson grounded to Wight, 
who threw Gannon out at third, and Reed grounded to Duffy to Landry for the last out. 


AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Landry, lb 5 

Duffy, 3b 4 

Wight, ss 5 

Nail, If 4 

Gentling, cf 4 

Brown, rf 5 

Campbell, 2b 4 

Abbot, c 4 

Swartzkopf, p 4 












Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Gannon, ss 2 113 

Allen, cf 4 15 

Walet, 3b 4 12 3 

Robinson, 2b 4 2 12 

Reed, If 4 2 

Bannon, c 3 16 11 

D'Antoni, rf 3 10 1 

Crane, lb 3 9 10 

Toups, p 3 4 3 

Totals 39 5 9 27 7 1 Totals 30 4 27 11 10 

Summary — Two-base hit — Wight. Stolen bases — Brown 2, Nail, Gentling, Camp- 
hell, Gannon, Robinson, Bannon. Sacrifice hit — Nail. Bases on balls — Toups 3, Swartz- 
kopf 1. Struck out — Toups 6, Swartzkopf 8. Double plays — Toups to Robinson to 
Crane; Walet to Crane. Hit by pitcher — Gannon. Left on bases — Tulane 11, Spring 
Hill 5. Umpire— Hall. 

May 2 — Spring Hill 3, Tulane University 1 

Spring Hill took the second game from Tulane. "Bobo" Curren of Spring Hill al- 
lowed three scattered hits and struck out ten men. Tulane's pitcher, Bienvenu, a for- 
mer Spring Hill twirler, pitched good ball, but failed to come up to Curren. Gannon, 
first up, beat out a hit; Allen bunted and beat the ball to first; Walet singled to center, 
scoring Gannon and All. en Another run came in in the third, when Gannon walked, 
stole second, reached third on Waiet's out, and stole home. Spring Hill lost two pos- 
sible runs in this inning by poor baserunning. Tulane's single score came in the sixth, 
when Landry reached second after Walet had thrown his grounder wild, taking third 
on Duffy's out, and scoring on Wight's single. Then Curren tightened up and struck 
out Nail and Gentling. Box score: 


AB. R. H. PO. 

Landry, rf 3 10 

Duffy, 3b 2 12 

Wight, ss 3 10 

Nail, If 3 

Gentling, cf 3 

Swartzkopf, lb 2 5 

Campbell, 2b 3 3 

Abbot, c ,... 3 17 

Bienvenu, p 2 1 





Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Gannon, ss 2 2 

Allen, cf 3 1 

Walet, 3b 3 

Robinson, 2b 3 

Reed, If 2 

Bannon, c 2 

D'Antoni, rf 2 

Crane, lb 2 

Curren, p 1 


Totals _ 28 1 3 21 10 4 Totals 20 3 4 21 9 3 

Summary — Stolen bases — Gannon, Allen, Duffy, Wight, Swartzkopf. Abbott. Struck 
out — Curren 10, Bienvenu 7. Bases on balls — Bienvenu 2, Curren 2. Wild pitch — Bien- 
venu. Passed ball — Abbott. Double plays — Gannon to Crane to Walet; Bienvenue tj 
Swartzkopf. Left on bases — Tulane 4, Spring Hill 1. Umpire — Hall. 


May 2— Tulane 3, Spring Hill 1 

The third game of the series was a pitchers' battle. Bienvenu was outpitched 
throughout by Curren, who would have won his game if given the proper support. Spring 
Hill's errors and baserunning lose the game. Landry, first up for Tulane, was given 
life, when Walet fumbled his grounder; Duffy sacrificed him to second, and Nail scored 
him on a triple. Spring Hill came back and tied up the count. Walet singled, stole sec- 
ond, went to third on a wild throw by Bienvenu, and scored on Robinson's single to 
center. The Hillians lost an excellent chance to score in the fourth. Bannon singled, 
was sacrificed to second, went to third on Crane's single, the latter stealing second. 
There was one out and men on second and third. Almost any kind of a grounder 
would have brought in a run, but by some mistake a squeeze play was tried and failed. 
Tulane won the game in the fifth. Duffy reached first on Gannon's error, stole second, 
and scored on Wight's triple. Nail then hit a drive to left field, which Reed misjudged, 
and Wight scored. 

Tulane— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E 

Landry, rf 4 10 Gannon, ss 4 113-2 

Duffy, 3b 2 11111 Allen, cf 3 

Wight, ss 3 110 2 Walet, 3b 3 12 11 

Nail, If 3 2 10 Robinson, 2b 3 13 3 

Gentling, cf 3 2 Reed, If 3 

Swartzkopf, lb 3 17 Bannon, c 3 16 

Campbell, 2b 3 11 D'Antoni, rf 10 10 

Abbott, c 3 7 Crane, lb 3 1 10 

Bienvenu, p 3 2 Curren, p 3 10 4 

Totals 27 3 5 18 6 2 Totals 26 1 7 21 11 3 

Tuiane 1 2 0—3 

Spring Hill .1 0—1 

Summary — Two-base hit — Nail. Three-base hits, Nail. Wight. Stolen bases — Duf- 
fy, Wight, Nail, Crane 2, D'Antoni, Robinson, Walet. Sacrifice hits — Allen, D'Antoni, 
Duffy. Bases on balls — Bienvenu 1. Struck out — Bienvenu 6, Curren 6. Left on 
bases — Tulane 4, Spring Hill 7. Umpire — Hall. 

May 4 — Spring Hill 3, Sample Shoe Store 2 

The Sample Shoe Store team, another semi-pro, met defeat at the hands of Spring 
Hill. Toups pitched good ball, and was ably supported. Allen hit safely three out of 
three. The game was called at the end of the fifth on account of rain. 

Sample Shoe Store „ 1 1 0—2 6 3 

Spring Hill 1 1 1—3 6 

Batteries — S. S. Store: Lacey and George; Spring Hill: Toups and Bannon. 

May 15 — Spring Hill 3, Tulane University 4 

On May 15, the varsity played a return series with Tulane at New Orleans. The 
third game was called off, as the second was not finished in time. Curren easily out- 
pitched Swartzkopf, but poor support in the infield lost him the game. He struck out 
nine men and allowed six scattered hits. Swartzkopf, though touched for nine hits, 


three of which were for extra bases, was ably supported. Reed's hitting and Curren's 
pitching were the features. Spring Hill scored first. Robinson, first up in the second, 
doubled to left field and scored en Reed's triple. Tulane tied the score in their half. 
Curren struck out Gentling and Swartzkopf and walked Campbell. Abbot then doubled 
and Campbell went to third, scoring on Brown's hit. Abbot was thrown out at home 
trying to score on the same hit. Neither team scored till the fifth. Landry reached 
first on Walet's error; Brown popped up to Gannon, but Duffy walked, and Landry 
went to second; Wight also was given a pass; Snow struck out, but Gentling grounded 
to Robinson, who fumbled, allowing Landry and Duffy to score. Spring Hill came 
back in the sixth. Gannon singled; Allen fanned; Walet drove a long fly to Landry, and 
Gannon went to second; Robinson walked and Reed drove to left-center for two bases, 
scoring Gannon and Robinson. Tulane won the game in the seventh on a pass, a stolen 
base, infield out and Duffy's single. Spring Hill rallied in the ninth, but failed to 
score. Box score: 

Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. Tulane— AB.1R. H. PO, A- E. 

Gannon, ss 5 13 12 Landry, If 4 112 

Allen, cf 3 10 Duffy, 3b 3 12 2 2 

Walet, 3b 4 3 11 Wight, ss 2 116 

Robinson, 2b 3 2 110 1 Snow, lb 4 12 

Reed, If 3 2 Gentling, cf 4 

Bannon, c 4 9 3 1 Swartzkopf, p 4 2 5 

D'Antoni, rf 4 1110 Campbell, 2b 3 10 2 2 

Crane, lb 3 15 Abbot, c 3 16 3 

Curren, p 4 13 3 1 Brown, rf 3 110 

Totals 33 3 9 24 10 4 Totals 30 4 6 27 18 

Summary — Two-base hits — Reed, Robinson, Abbott. Three-base hit — Reed. Struck 

out — Curren 9, Swartzkopf 3. Bases on balls — Curren 4, Swartzkopf 4. Hit by pitcher 

— (Gannon). 

May 16— Spring Hill 12, Tulane University 4 

Spring Hill came back strong and took the second game, 12 to 4. Curren pitched 
airtight ball and hit two singles and a double in four times at bat. Crane, Gannon, Reed 
and Allen each got two hits. Bienvenu of Tulane, was knocked out of the box in the 
fifth. Spring Hill drew first blood. D'Antoni was safe on Wight's error, and stole 
second; Robinson was hit by a pitched ball, and Reed hit for two bases, scoring D'An- 
toni and Robinson. Two more were added in the second on Bannon's walk and hits by 
Crane and Curren. Tulane came in for their half and scored twice, on a single, an er- 
ror, a stolen base, and a fielder's choice. Another run was added in the third on Wight's 
hit, a stolen base and an error. Spring Hill scored one in the fourth on Walet's long 
triple and an infield out, and sewed up the game in the sixth with four more off 
two doubles and three singles. Bienvenu was succeeded by Sharff in the sixth, who 
was touched for three hits and two runs in the eighth inning. The box score: 

Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. Tulane— AB. R.H. PO. A. E. 

Gannon, ss 5 3 2 3 11 Landry, If 3 12 1 

D'Antoni, rf 3 2 12 1 Duffy, 3b 3 113 5 

Allen, cf 4 2 10 Wight, ss 4 110 3 1 

Robinson, 2b 4 10 2 2 1 Gentling, cf 4 110 



Reed, If 4 2 1 

Bannon, c _ 4 2 16 

Walet, 3b 5 1111 

Crane, lb 5 2 3 10 

Curren, p 4 13 1 




Swartzkopf, lb 4 1 2 11 1 

Brown, rf 4 10 

Campbell, 2b 4 6 10 

Abbott, c 4 5 

Bienvenu, p 2 10 10 

Scharff, p 2 

Totals 38 12 15 27 7 

Totals 34 4 5 27 14 2 

Summary — Runs: Gannon 3, D'Antoni 2, Bannon 2, Crane 2, Robinson, Walet, Cur- 
ren. Duffy, Wight, Swartzkopf, Brown. Errors — Wight 2, Duffy 2, Gentling, Gannon, 
Robinson, Walet, Curren. Two-base hits — Reed, Curren, Crane, Swartzkopf. Three- 
base hit — Walet. Sacrifice hit — D'Antoni. Stolen bases — Landry, Wight, Duffy 2, 
Gentling, D'Antoni. Struck out — By Bienvenu 5, Curren 5. Bases on balls — Off Bien- 
venu 3, off Scharff 1, Curren 2. Hit by pitched ball — By Bienvenu (Robinson). Wild 
pitch — Bienvenu. Double play — Walet to Crane. Time of game — 2:25. Umpire — 

Spring Hill 4, Auburn 2 

On June 2 we opened a three-game series against Auburn. Toups, Spring Hill 
hurler, was opposed by Charles O'knger, who also was a former Spring Hill student. He 
pitched good ball, striking out twelve men, but was touched when hits meant runs. The 
first run was scored in the first inning, after two men were retired on Robinson's fiel- 
der's choice; he then stole second and went to third on a past ball then stole home 
while Ollinger was winding up. The Tigers came right back and tied the score in the 
following inning. Spring Hill then came back and scored the runs which won the game. 
Allen was passed, going to second on a wild pitch; Walet beat out a bunt, and Ban- 
non's single scored the two winning runs. The other run scored was a homer by Scotr. 
Spring Hill added another run in the sixth. D'Antoni led off with a two-bagger and 
took third on a passed ball, scoring later on Reed's single. The feature of the gam 2 
was the fielding of Crane and Robinson. The box score: 


AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Spring Hill 

AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Richardson, 3b 4 10 

Scott, ss 4 12 10 

Barnes, 2b 4 14 2 

J aSister, 3b 3 15 

Johnston, If 3 10 

Creel, (f 4 10 

Schapp, c 4 1 1 12 2 

Whipple, rf 4 12 

Ollinger, p 3 10 3 

Gannon, ss 3 

D'Antoni, rf 3 1 

Robinson. 2b 4 1 

Reed, If 3 

Allen, cf 2 1 

Walet, 3b 3 1 

Crane, lb 3 

Bannon, c 2 

Toups, p 3 


1 3 

Totals 33 2 8 24 9 

Totals 24 4 5 27 13 2 

Summary — Two-base hits — Schapp and D'Antoni. Home run — Scott. Stolen bases 
— Reed, Walet, Robinson 2. Sacrifice hits — D'Antoni, Johnston. Double plays — Robin- 
son (unassisted); Ollinger to Barnes to LaSister. Struck out — Ollinger 12, Toups 1. 
Bases on balls — Ollinger 2. Wild pitches — Ollinger 2, Toups 1. Passed balls — Schapp 




2, Bannon 1. Hit by pitcher — Ollinger (Gannon); by Toups (LaSister). Umpires — 
Castagnos and Collins. 

June 3 — Spring Hill 1, Auburn 

On the third of June Bobo Curren played his last game with Spring Hill. We do not 
hesitate for a moment to say without a doubt that Bobo pitched the best game of his 
career. Besides pitching a good game, he drove in the winning run with his two-bag- 
ger to right field. Opposing Curren was Auburn's best pitcher, Johnston, who is picked 
as an all-Southern man. The nearest Auburn came to scoring was in the seventh in- 
ning, when singles by Johnston and Ollinger put men on first and second. Richardson 
then singled to right field. D'Antoni, coming in, got the ball on the ground, and by a 
beautiful throw got Johnston at the plate. Scott then flied out to the catcher. Spring 
Hill won the game in the eleventh. Crane, first man up, was hit by pitcher. He was 
sacrificed to second by Bannon, and then scored the winning and only run on Bobo's 
two-base hit to right field. D'Anconi, Crane and Walet made sensational stops, which 
cut off probable runs. 


AB. R. H. PO.A. E. 

Richardson, 3b 5 2 2 

Scott, ss 4 110 

Barnes, 2b 4 1 1 1 

LaSister, lb 4 6 

Creel, cf 4 4 

Scharpe, c 5 18 

Whipple, rf 4 

Johnston, p 4 2 111 

Ollinger, If 4 10 

Spring Hill — 

Gannon, ss 

D'Antoni, rf 4 

Robinson, 2b 4 

Reed, If _ 4 

Allen, cf 4 

Walet, 3b 4 

Walet, 3b ...'. 4 

Crane, lb 3 1 

Bannon, c 3 

Cuiren, p 4 

.401 1 






Totals 38 7 31 4 1 

Totals 34 1 4 33 18 3 

Summary — Two-base hit — Curren. Stolen bases — Richardson 2, LaSister, Gannon, 
Allen 2. Sacrifice hits — Scott, Barnes, LaSister, Bannon. Double play — Walet to Gan- 
non. Struck out — by Johnston 18, Curren 2. Hit by pitcher — Curren (Creel); Johnston 
(Crane). Left on bases — Auburn 9, Spring Hill 4. Umpire — Galvin. 

June 3 — Auburn 2, Spring Hill 

The Auburn Tigers won the last game of the series. Ollinger and Toups formed 
the pitching "staTf. Auburn scored two runs in the first inning, and that was all the 
runs scored during the game. The features of the game were the fielding of Walet and 
Crane. The game was called in the fifth inning on account of darkness. 

Auburn— AB. R 

Richardson, 3b 3 

Scott, ss 2 

Barnes, 2b 3 

LaSister, lb 3 

Creel, cf 2 

Johnston, If . LI. .... 2 
Whipple, rf 1 


H. PO. 






1 2 


1 1 



Spring Hill— AB. R. H. PO. A. E. 

Gannon, ss 2 2 2 2 

D'Antoni, rf 2 10 

Robinson, 2b 2 111 

Reed, If 2 110 

Allen, cf 2 

Walet, 3b 2 13 

Crane, lb 10 7 



Scharpe, c 2 15 2 

Ollinger, p 2 12 

Totals 20 2 4 15 5 

Bannon, c 10 2 

Toups, p 10 2 

Totals 15 1 15 8 3 


High School 5; U. M. S. 7 

Our first defeat came from U. M. S., and was caused by ragged infielding, bad judg- 
ment by two substitute outfielders, and indifferent pitching in the early innings. In 
fact, the whole team, save Captain Morgan and Hyronemus, who relieved Fitzgibbons, 
had an off-day. We were lucky to get off with a two-run beating, considering our 
nine errors and Wright's twelve hits. A base on balls, two hits and an infield out 
gave us two runs in the first inning. U. M. S. tied up in the second on three clean 
drives. In the fourth, with three hits and two errors, they scored four tallies. This 
finished Fitzgibbons. Hyronemus then held our opponents till the ninth, when Bur- 
gel t's home run pulled Wright's total up to seven. Meanwhile, the Purple and White 
made futile attempts to overtake the military boys. In several innings we got men on 
base, but the punch was always lacking to bring them home. Finally, in the seventh, 
two errors and two infield outs gave us a tally. In our half of the ninth things got 
very exciting. Shanahan got a life on an error and scored on Hyronemus' long home 
run. After the next batter fliad out, Hebert doubled, but was left on second, as Roe 
proved too much for the next two men. 

U. M. S 2 4 1—7 12 4 

High School 2 10 2—5 7 9 

Batteries — S. H. C. High: Fitzgibbons, Hyronemus and Burguieres; U. M. S.: Roe 
and Burgett. 

High School 5; A. & W. 2 

In our next game, the team showed a decided improvement, defeating a fast ama- 
teur club representing Albright & Wood Drug Co. Hyronemus pitched well, and re- 
ceived good support. Our hits, though few, were well bunched, and coupled with good 
base running, produced five earned runs. 

A. & W 1 10 

High School 2 2 

Batteries — S. H. C. High: Hyronemus and Burguieres; A. 

0—2 4 2 

1 o *— 5 6 2 
& W., McCaffery and 

High School 5; U. M. S. 2 

In a game shortened by Wright's late arrival, we took the deciding count from our 
old foes. In the first inning we received a gift. Hebert gained the sack on an error, 
and later scored when Burgett's wild throw to catch him stealing got by the outfielders. 
The next inning proved our big frame. After two were down, five neat singles, coupled 
with fast base running, gave us four counts. This finished our scoring. U. M. S. 


scored twice in the third on a base on balls, an error and a double. All other innings, 
but three men faced Hyronemus, as Burguieres threw four runners out on the sacks. 

U. m. S 2 0—2 5 3 

High School 1 4 *— .5 6 2 

High School 11, A. & W. 1 

The A. & W. team wished to try us again, but we came out at the larger end of the 
score, outplaying the drug boys in every department. Of our twelve hits, four were 
triples and two doubles, while our opponents gathered but three singles from our 

A. & W 00 001 00 0—1 3 3 

High School 4 1 2 2 2 *— 11 12 2 

Batteries — A. & W.: Robinson and Ollinger; S. H. C. High: Hyronemus and Bur- 

High School 7, Overseas 6. 

In a game marked by the wretched fielding of our team, we took a close decision 
from a fast amateur club. Eleven errors were made by our boys, and it was only by 
bunching our hits with the visitor?/ errors, and running the bases well that we hosed 
out ahead. A home run in the third was the only earned run for the Overseas. 

Overseas 1 2 1 2 0—6 4 3 

High Schol 1 3 12 *— 7 8 11 

Batteries — Overseas: Neely and Ollinger; S. H. C. High: Hyronemus and Bur- 

High School 17, Moss Point High School 

Our victory over Moss Point High School meant a great deal, as the Mississippi 
boys boasted of a fine record in their own state. Allen pitched seven innings, and held 
the visitors to two hits. Putman then pitched two innings, and in his first performance 
as a slab artist, fanned five out of the six that faced him. For four innings the game 
was a fast give-and-take contest, but a little inside ball upset the visitors in the fourth 
and sixth. The last two innings proved a swatf est for our boys. Shanahan, Allen, Mars- 
ton and Burguieres did fine work at bat. 

Moss Point 00 000 00 0—0 2 fl 

High School 3 3 6 5 *— 17 15 ' 2 

Moss Point: Coulson, Rape and Smith; S. H. C. High: Allen, Putman and Bur- 

High School 5; A. & W. 3 

After defeating the A. & W. team twice, the drug store boys asked for another 
game, but when the team came out, we did not recognize our old friends. Every posi- 
tion but two was held down by new men, all of whom were fast semi-pro players from 
the M. & O. League and the shipyard teams. Schulte, a Southern League rookie, held 
down third. To attempt to defeat such a team looked hopeless, but the High School 



youngsters by steady fighting, bniliant fielding and hitting in the pinches, supported 
Hyronemus' fine pitching and came out ahead in the ninth. A large Sunday crowd saw 
the game, as the college team was away, and the spirited rooting of the little yard 
helped make the contest the most exciting and hard-fought event of the season. 

The whole team played well. Beatrous, besides his spectacular base running, cut 
off a man at the plate with a splendid throw from deep left. Marston, although charged 
with three errors, two of which were quick throws, made five neat assists at short, and 
did well at bat. Burguieres led the hitting with three singles, and handled the deliv- 
ery of Hyronemus perfectly. Fitzgibbons, in centre, made a fine shoe-string catch in 
the seventh, pulling a double at second. Two men were on base and none out at this 
time. Captain Morgan plaved his usual steady game at first, and kept up the "pep" 
throughout. Too much praise cannot be given to our pitcher, who performed quite a 
feat for a high school boy, when he held his heavy opponents to six hits and fanned ten. 

A. & W 2 1 0—3 6 3 

High School 1 2 1 10 *— 5 8 3 

Batteries — A. & W.: Degrue, McCafferty and Stone; S. H. C. High: Hyronemus 
and Burguieres. 

High School 8; Jesuit High 3 

The first, game of our annual series with the Jesuits' High of New Orleans resulted 
in a rather easy victory for the Purple and White. Allen, pitching for the High School, 
held the New Orleans boys scoreless till the eighth, though he was in trouble in sev- 
eral innings. In the last frame he blew up, yielding three runs, from two walks, two 
wild heaves and a single. . Hyronemus then retired the side, and the game was called 
for supper. Fine fielding by Beatrous, Shanahan and Marston held down the Jesuits' 

Ching proved a puzzle to our boys for the first three innings: In the fourth, Allen 
found his fast ball for a clean home run. In the sixth we chalked up five tallies. Beat- 
rous walked, stole second and moved to third on Marston's sacrifice. Allen reached first 
when his roller was held by the second baseman, and proceeded to steal. D'Antoni was 
purposely passed, filling the sacks. Morgan came through with a single, scoring Beat- 
rour and Allen. Hebert's single scored D'Antoni and sent Morgan to third. Hebert 
stole second, and a moment later Morgan scored on Shanahan's long sacrifice fly. Bur- 
guieres' hit then sent over Hebert with the fifth run. In the seventh inning we added 
two more counts. Putman singled, stole second and scored when Beatrous hit the next 
ball for a safety. Beatrous went down on the throw-in, took third on an infield out, and 
crossed the plate on D'Antoni's single. Though the game was played on a sloppy field, 
it was very fast and marked by good fielding. Hart proved the star of the New Or- 
leans team. The wet field did not affect our scoring, as all our runs were earned, and 
Jesuits' one error did not figure in the run-getting. 

Jesuits' High , 3 — 3 6 1 

S. H. C. High 10 5 2 *— 8 9 3 

Jesuits' High: Ching and Hart; S. H. C. High: Allen, Hyronemus and Burguieres. 

High School 9, Jesuit High 3 

The first game of Sunday's double-header proved another easy victory. Our team 


hit well and, besides, were helped by Jesuits' errors. The New Orleans team started 
in with plenty of pep. Korndorffer and Marsans walked; Hart moved them on with a 
sacrifice, and Ching sent the two tallies over with a long single. Jesuits practically 
handed us the game in our half of the inning, when they made three errors, which, 
coupled with a wild pitch, a hit batsman and a single, gave us four runs. We came back 
strong in the second inning. Beatrous was safe on an error and took second on Mars- 
ton's single. The two then worked a double steal and scored with Allen on the latter's 
home run drive, his second for the series. In the fourth, Shanahan was hit, stole second 
and third, and scored on Morgan'^ single. Morgan stole second and scored on Hebert's 
single. This brought our number up to nine, and though we made two hits in each of 
our remaining innings, no S. H. C. boy crossed the plate. In the sixth, Jesuits tallied 
one more run. Hyronemus pitched well, yielding only two hits, but was wild at times. 
His team gave him fine support. White was supported wretchedly, and was hit with 
men on bases. Ching and Hart again featured for the New Orleans team, while Allen. 
Beatrous and Hebert starred for the Purple and White. Both games were seven innings 
by agreement. 

Jesuits' High 2 1 0—3 2 6 

S. H. C. High 4 3 2 *— 9 9 1 

S. H. C: Hyronemus and Burguieres; Jesuits' High: White and Hart. 

High School 14, Jesuits 2 

In hopes of taking one game of the series, Jesuits kept Ching, their best pitching 
bet, for the last contest. However, our team made things worse for him than on the 
preceding day, driving him from the mound in two innings, and then kept up the fusi- 
lade against White, piling up a total of fourteen runs. Our eleven hits numbered a 
home run, three triples and a double. Putman pitched a good game, and received error- 
less support. Besides, he got four hits in four trips to the plate, two of them being 
triples. Beatrous, Marston and Shanahan did the spectacular work, and Burguieres, 
catching his third game, labored as hard as ever, and came through, as usual, with a 
needed hit. 

The game was followed by a parade of the High School boys to celebrate the Purple 
and White triumph. Some ten years have elapsed since the Spring Hill team made a 
clean sweep, and the decisiveness cf this year's victories consoled us for our last year's 
defeat. The whole High School team unquestionably fielded and batted well. Only four 
errors were charged against them in three games, and two of these were made by a 
substitute put in when the first game was won. Captain Hart of Jesuits, was the back- 
bone of the New Orleans club, and gained many friends here by his clean sportsman- 

Jesuits' High 20 000 0—26 6 

S. H. C. High 1 7 1 5 *— 14 11 

Jesuits: Ching, White and Hart; S. H. C. High: Putman and Burguieres. 

This brought to a close a most successful season. The 1919 youngsters hung up 
the best record made in many a year by winning sixteen out of seventeen games played. 



The team had the remarkably high batting- average of .305, and though the fielding was 
not classy in the beginning of the season, it jumped into first class form when the 
infield was shaken up, three weeks before the season closed. The pitching staff was 
composed of Hyronemus, Allen, Ptitman and Fitzgibbons. The first named did the bulk 
of the work, taking part in eleven games, and being credited with nine victories and no 
defeats. Burguieres caught all of the games, and stands out as a big factor in the 
year's success. The infield was composed of Captain Morgan at first; Junkin or D'An- 
toni at second; Marston at shor*:, and Hebert at third. In the two last named, the 
High School possessed a pair of sure, hard players, whose ability to cover ground often 
cut off hits. The outfield was made up of Beatrous, Allen, Shanahan, Putman and 
Fitzgibbons, all regular fly hawks. In Beatrous, it is safe to say the little yard had the 
finest fielder and base runner on record, and if his ability to bat had been greater he 
would certainly have been taken up to the college team, as Allen was. The batting 
averages of the regulars for the season were: Putman, .408; Allen, .368; Burguieres, 
.364; Morgan, .345; Hyronemus, .345; Marston, .290; Hebert, .288; Shanahan, .278; Beat- 
rous, .250. Burguieres led in scoring with 23 runs. Hebert and Morgan were tied 
with stolen base honors, with 19 each; Marston led in sacrifice hits, with 9. The team 
won the High School championship of Mobile, and by its victories over the fast amateur 
clubs it met, could well lay claim to the title of amateur champions. The calibre of the 
Purple and White aggregation was brought out in the last series, when it totally out- 
classed a team which had been runner-up in the New Orleans High School League. 

Batting Average 

G. AB. H. Av. 

0. McEvoy 3 9 5 .555 

S. D'Antoni 5 9 4 .444 

J. Allen 23 79 27 .342 

D. Gannon 22 84 28 .333 

E. Reed 23 72 22 .306 

D. Curren 18 56 16 .286 

J. Bannon .... 

J. Walet 

B. D'Antoni 

L. Toups 

E. Robinson . 
R. Crane 



. H. 






















.22 69 15 .217 


March 9 — Spring Hill 11, Naval Reserves 2. 

March 17— Spring Hill 3, All Stars 2. 

March 23— Spring Hill 14, Thoss 1. 

March 30— Spring Hill 5, Mobile Shipbuilding Co. 4. 

April 6— Spring Hill 4, All Stars 3. 

April 9 — Spring Hill 17, Alabama Medical College 0. 

April 13 — Spring Hill 7, Mobile (Southern League) 1. 

April 16 — Spring Hill 0, Mobile (Southern League) 7. 

April 20— Spring Hill 14, Mobile Shipbuilding Co. 0. 

April 25 — Spring Hill 4, Manor Institute 3. 

April 26— S^"ing Hill 7, Marion Institute 1. 

April 26 — Spring Hill 11, Marion Institute 2. 

May 1 — Spring Hill 0, Tulane University 5. 























—Spring Hill 3, Tuiane University 1. 
—Spring Hill 1, Tuiane University 3. 
-Spring Hill 3, Sample Shoe Store 2. 
—Spring Hill 3, Tuiane University 4. 
—Spring Hill 12, Tuiane University 4. 
-Spring Hill 20, Fort Morgan 1. 
—Spring Hill 9, Fort Morgan 4. 
-Spring Hill 4, Auburn 2. 
-Spring Hill 1, Auburn 0. 
-Spring Hill 0, Auburn 2. 

*<jf *•■■•*